The Happy Medium
by SwordSwallower17
Summary: Rebellious princesses, sexy pirate lasses and beautiful servant-girls wreak havoc in the Caribbean. Jack Sparrow and Will Turner are hopelessly entranced. The streets run red with sparkly blood. Enter two characters who are destined to fix it all.
1. The Lovely Captain Esperanza Grey

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** This is just an idea that evolved out of procrastination one day. It's my first _Pirates_ fanfiction, but I've read loads of them. And no, the Sues in this fic aren't taken from any other fic. They may be loosely based, but they're not directly _taken_; believe me, one doesn't have to take a Mary Sue from anywhere to get her to sound familiar. They're all alike. Oh, and this doesn't have anything to do with _Life in Fandom_.

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own any of the things you recognize. At least, I don't think I do.

-------------------

**The Happy Medium**

**By: Peacenik **

-------------------

It could easily be said that Vila Borcka was the most beautiful woman in the world.

It could easily be said that about _any_ woman, really, except that in Vila's case it could only be said as some sort of cruel joke. Vila Borcka was tall and skinny, with hair of the "dishwater" or "dirty" blonde persuasion. Her ears were slightly pointed, but in a way that was more like a genetic disfiguration than any sort of relation to Elves or magic anything else of that sort; aside from those few notes, there was nothing else one could really say about her appearance.

Of her in general, one could say that she was rather quiet and currently asleep on the blindingly white sands of _somewhere_.

Vila herself was completely unaware of this fact. She had gone to bed last night in her bed, and as of yet hadn't awakened. She was having a rather pleasant dream, actually, which had something to do with _Back to the Future_.

How ironically appropriate.

-------------------

Captain Esperanza Grey _was_ the most beautiful woman in the world, without question.

She was tall and slender, with curves in all the right places. Her hair was long and fell in a silver-gold sheet down her back. Her eyes were the color of lavender, and held the wisdom and mystery of the ages, which was really amazing as she was only about twenty-one years old. Her nose was perfect, her ears were perfect, her lips were perfect, and her forehead was perfect. Everything about her was perfect and glamorous and beautiful.

This of course spawned from the fact that she was the daughter of some wealthy duke living in the Caribbean, who had been forcing her to marry some old man in France that she despised, and had shipped her off to Paris for her marriage. Of course, at the first given opportunity, she had escaped and, using her incredible intelligence, fighting skills, and beauty to her advantage, had become the most feared pirate ever, and also an Independent Woman.

But of course, you didn't need to know that.

Esperanza was currently (gracefully) pacing the deck of her ship, the _Zenevieva_, in front of a group of prisoners.

Despite the fact that the _Black Pearl_ was the most feared pirate ship in the Spanish Main, and its crew members were hardly stupid, Esperanza had managed to capture them all (which probably had something to do with her incredible intelligence, fighting skills, and beauty). She paused for a moment, and examined the other captain. "Captain Jack Sparrow, I presume?" she said (in her musical voice).

"Aye," Sparrow said, and suddenly – completely against his will – his heart was filled with undying love for this gorgeous creature who stood before him. He had to restrain himself from kneeling down on the deck and pledging said amorous feelings to her.

_Damn, not again_, he thought desperately, shortly before his brain turned to mush.

-------------------

Vila opened her eyes slowly, and began to sat up, when suddenly –

_Hello, Miss Borcka_.

The voice didn't so much speak as it resonated. However, Vila got the distinct impression that it only resonated in her head.

"Hello," she replied cautiously.

_Do you know where you are, Miss Borcka?_

"Er – am I dead?" she asked.

_You are far from dead, Miss Borcka. You are in the Caribbean. On a very significant island, as a matter of fact._

"Oh, that's good, then," Vila said, looking around despondently. The island didn't look significant; it looked rather...well...small.

_You are somewhere between the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, I believe_, the voice said carefully.

"I've always liked history."

_You are taking this rather well, you know. Most girls who get dropped in here are a bit...stupid. And they have a strange fascination with rum._

"I don't drink."

_Have you ever heard of fanfiction, Miss Borcka?_

"Yes. I haven't written any slash, though!" Vila added quickly, in a way that definitely meant she had.

_And you are familiar with_ Pirates of the Caribbean the voice continued, ignoring her. 

"I suppose," Vila said, wondering when she was going to begin panicking.

The voice paused. _And you are not – obsessive?_

"I wouldn't say _that_," Vila said reprovingly.

_Neither are you stylishly indifferent?_

"I don't think so."

_Then, Miss Borcka, you are exactly the person I need._

"Glad to be of service," Vila said affably, and fainted.

-------------------

Will Turner, despite the fact that he should have been happily married now, possibly with a child, was among the Black Pearl's crew.

The story of his joining was short: Elizabeth had died, in a freak accident involving a cliff and a frog, and Will was depressingly un-sorry. She had been rather a bi— rather an unpleasant person, anyway, he had decided cheerfully; and, conveniently forgetting his lifelong hatred of pirates (possibly stemming from the fact that they killed his father), had signed up to join Jack Sparrow's crew.

Now, he should have been regretting that decision, but found regret difficult given the glorious creation of God that paced the deck before him.

She was beautiful, with long silver-gold hair that fell to her waist and eyes that held _secrets_, and a glamorous name. He could immediately tell that he was going to fall head over heels –

_Elizabeth, Elizabeth,_ the part of Will that was still Will thought forcedly. They've _killed her off, but she's not really dead, once this is over I can get back home to --_

At that moment, Esperanza's purple eyes fell on him.

He had about as much chance as a snowflake in Hell.

-------------------

_Miss Borcka, you will awaken!_ the voice rumbled inside Vila's head. Her eyes snapped open, and she sat up straight, barely managing to keep herself from saluting.

_You are familiar with the Mary Sue phenomenon?_ the voice continued, as though nothing had happened.

"I think so," Vila said.

_You hate them?_ The voice sounded almost as though it were egging her on.

Vila hesitated. The truth was, she'd always been a bit – well -- _jealous_ of Mary Sues. Oh, they annoyed her, of course, but she rather felt sorry for them sometimes; after all, there were Mary Sues in real life, too, and nobody ever tried to obliterate _them_. Vila herself could even have been a Mary Sue, if she'd only fallen into the head of the right author (the right author being the sort who recognized the surname "Borcka" as being both cruel and unusual).

_You hate them?_ the voice said again, and there was a distinctly threatening edge this time.

"Yes, sir. Ma'am. Thing." Vila sighed. "Why is this happening to me?"

_I believed I had already made that clear. You are not obsessive, nor indifferent. You are not beautiful, yet not...toadish. You have no discernable skills or talents about you, but neither are you an idiot._

"Thank you."

_You, Miss Borcka, are a Happy Medium._

-------------------

Esperanza Grey smirked at Jack Sparrow, and several more male hearts swooned.

It was a bit pathetic, really.

"You're on _my_ ship, now," she said, still smirking (attractively), and nodded at the _Black Pearl_. As one, the prisoners turned.

Their beloved ship was overrun with blindly loyal crew members of the _Zenevieva_, any one of whom would have taken a blade, bullet, or grenade (if they could do it in _Monty Python_, they could do it here) for their beautiful captain.

Unsurprisingly, Jack's mind wasn't so much concerned with the loss of his ship as it was with how he could get Esperanza into bed. Some small part of Jack was trying to fight this, was trying to yell that he was _Captain Jack Sparrow_, for God's sake, when had he ever cared more about a woman than he did about his ship, and those idiots were going to get greasy fingerprints all over the wheel – but that part of him was drowned out by some strange, un-Jack-like force.

Clearly, there was evil at work here.

"Well, now, Captain," he slurred, "it would seem that ye've taken o'er me ship." His heart was pounding while he said this, and his palms were beginning to sweat; the compulsion to go down on one knee before Esperanza was overwhelming, but he fought it. The strange, un-Jack-like force in him said "Not yet." The small bit of Jack that remained had retreated into a corner of his brain to sulk.

"It would seem that way," Esperanza said. Her eyes flashed, apparently for no reason. All males assembled quivered, and the blindingly stupid thought that 'this one was no one to mess with' entered each of their minds in turn, despite the fact that 'to mess with' was not a term any of them had heard before.

"How can ye be a captain, missy?" called Gibbs. "Ye're a woman."

_And what a woman_, all males assembled thought.

"Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I can't be whatever I want to be," Esperanza snapped. She was beautiful when she was annoyed.

Actually, she was beautiful anytime.

It was disgusting.

"Now," Esperanza began, as the _Black Pearl_ began sailing away (although nobody really cared, at that moment) "You are on _my_ ship, where _I_ give the orders, savvy? James," she gestured to a random crewmember, who was staring at her in adoration, "untie their bonds."

"Aye aye, captain." James did so. Esperanza smiled sweetly.

"We will escort you to a port, at which point we will proceed to loot and plunder your ship before leaving you. And then you will always remember Captain Esperanza Grey." She tossed her hair (it caught the wind and shimmered for a moment). "However, until we put in to port, you will be treated as part of my crew."

"Fair enough, Captain," Jack said, saluting. Esperanza turned on her heel and strode (gracefully) into her cabin.

-------------------

_You see?_

"Er – well – her dialogue's rather...bad, isn't it?" Vila said. She had been watching the proceedings in something that was rather like a television, a mirror, and a globe combined.

_She lacks personality._

"Yeah, but that's _all_ she lacks." Vila sighed. "And I'm supposed to get rid of her?"

_I have found, in my extensive research concerning the effects of Happy Mediums on Mary Sues, that the former tends to have a negative effect on the latter._

"Then you must know other Happy Mediums, why did you choose me?"

_I ran out of choices._

"How?"

She could almost imagine the voice shifting uncomfortably. _Occasionally, the Mary Sue is too powerful and a reverse effect occurs, resulting in the...loss...of the Medium._

"What happened to your last Happy Medium?" Vila asked in horrified fascination. "Did she become a Sue as well?"

_If you happen to board the_ Zenevieva_ for any reason , you will find a grease spot on the deck._ That _is what happened to my last Medium._

Vila digested this for a moment, then paled. "What do you expect _me_ to do, then? I mean, if your last Medium couldn't stand against her, then what makes you think I – "

_I told you_, the voice snapped. _I ran out of choices. Don't begin thinking you're any sort of Chosen One, that's the first step in the road down Sueism. Demoralizing, isn't it?_

Vila flopped backwards in the sand. "What do I have to do?" she asked glumly.

-------------------

"Luvverly creature, in't she?" Jack grinned, throwing an arm around Will's shoulder. "I tell ye, whelp, that one – "

"Don't, Jack," Will said, looking at him soulfully. (The small bit of Will that remained banged its fists on the wall of Will's brain, but to no avail.) "She's ...she's beautiful."

"Aye, an' intelligent too. An' strong, an' a great captain." Jack stared out at the sea. "Ever been in love, Will?"

_Elizabeth! Elizabeth!_ screamed the remainder of Will. However, the rest of him said, "Not until now, Jack."

The two pirates glared at each other. The gauntlet was thrown.

Or something.

-------------------

The _Zenevieva_ cut smoothly through the water. She and the _Black Pearl_ had been sailing for some time, and nobody had been doing anything aside from wandering the deck and occasionally slipping on the mysterious grease spot on the _Zenevieva_ that had been there since their last trip to Tortuga (where Esperanza had singlehandedly fought off all the men who had accosted her). However, at the first sight of land – a small island – the crew sent up a cheer.

After all, it is a well-known fact that pirates like nothing better than having bonfires on small islands, particularly ones where they've already been...

"Same spit of land, isn't it, Jack?" Will asked tersely as Jack approached him. "You're back again."

"Aye, but this time the company'll be better n' ever, boy." Jack grinned. "I've got some plans to show our gorgeous captain the scenery here. Lovely scenery it is, really."

Will snapped, and whipped out his sword. Jack whipped out his own sword, and the two proceeded to fight like two stuffed pirate dolls.

It really was saddening to watch.

-------------------

"Who's going to win?" Vila asked, craning her eyes to watch the swordfight. The two ships had drawn close enough to the island that she was able to see at least part of what was going on onboard, although she still needed the screen/globe/mirror to hear.

_Whoever Esperanza wants to win, Miss Borcka._

"Don't you mean whoever the _author_ – " 

_No, I mean Esperanza. That is the danger of Mary Sues...once they are created, they manifest themselves and take control. There is no stopping them._

Vila looked witheringly at the air around her. The voice sighed.

_All right, I mean whoever the_ author _wants to win_.

Vila suddenly leapt into the air. "Jack just pushed Will off the ship!"

_He'll be swimming here momentarily. You might want to avert your eyes, Miss Borcka. I know what comes next._

-------------------

Esperanza grabbed Jack and immediately pulled him into a passionate kiss that drew cheers and catcalls from the crew, which had assembled around Jack and Will during the swordfight. Will watched from the water below, his heart shattering into a million pieces and settling on the floor of his stomach. His inner Will cheered.

It would be amusing to say Esperanza kissed like a donkey, but unfortunately, she didn't.

"You defended my honor," Esperanza said smoothly when she and Jack broke apart. "Thanks."

"Any time, luv," Jack answered breathlessly.

-------------------

"Defended her _honor_?" Vila said incredulously. "No, he didn't, Will did!"

_Continuity problems. Another symptom of –_ The voice disappeared rather suddenly. Vila looked around for it, then realized the exact pointlessness of looking for a voice, and stopped.

Will Turner was coming up the beach.

He looked disproportionately handsome, and unfairly heartbroken. Vila sighed. Faces like Will's were not made for heartbreak. They were made for...she considered. Well, they weren't made for heartbreak, at any rate.

Behind him, the rest of the crew – including Jack and Esperanza, the latter of whom was still stubbornly denying any attraction she had towards Jack –were paddling towards the island in little boats. Vila dove behind a nearby tree, then realized something.

"This shouldn't be here," she hissed. "Elizabeth _burned_ the trees – "

_Ah, but this author is denying the existence of Elizabeth_, the voice said, startling her and making her let out an embarrassingly high-pitched shriek. Will, still on the beach, looked around in confusion.

"You're back," Vila whispered, watching Will.

_Only because I forgot to give you instructions._

"All right."

Something small hit her on the head, then fell gently to the sand. She picked it up; it was a small bottle labeled 'Canon.'

_Use in moderation_, the voice warned her. _One drop of this is usually enough to restore everything to its rightful state._

"But you said your last Medium – "

_Be careful, Miss Borck_, the voice said loudly. _Good luck._

"How do I use – "

_Aim for the Sue_. And the voice was gone.

"Aim for the Sue," Vila muttered. "And it's that simp – oh."

Esperanza had reached the beach. She climbed gracefully out of the boat, though how it possible to climb gracefully out of a boat is still one of those mysteries that has yet to be solved.

The globe/mirror/screen had muted a lot of Esperanza's outrageous beauty, probably for safety reasons. Esperanza's hair didn't shimmer, it _gleamed_, in the same way that her tanned skin glowed. Her eyes were much brighter and more dangerously mysterious than Vila had thought, and she had about her a sort of perfection that had been much understated. Vila felt a sort of hot jealousy spark through her.

'I could have been her,' Vila thought. 'I could have been that, I _could_ be that, if I really wanted to.'

But at that moment, her eyes fell on Will, who was gazing around the island. There was something wrong with him, besides the uncharacteristic look of despair on his face; there was something wrong about his eyes. They seemed too... dull.

Esperanza strode up the beach, smiling (beautifully) at Will, who flushed and looked at the ground. Vila felt her jealousy turn into anxiety. Soon, she was going to have to go out there and _canonize someone_, which she'd never done before but had the feeling she was going to have to pick up as she went along.

"We'll make the bonfires here," Esperanza's musical voice sang. "And I think back there, Captain Sparrow, is where we'll – "

Vila gribbed the bottle of Canon tightly in her hand and stepped forward.

"Stop," she called, her voice shaking a bit.

Esperanza turned towards her. "Who are _you_?" she demanded, her eyes flashing. There was a massive male swoon behind the female captain, which Vila ignored with effort.

"I'm Vila Borcka," she said, wishing she had a more impressive name, "and I'm here to – " She paused. "I'm here to stop you," she finished lamely.

"Stop me from doing _what_?" Esperanza snapped. Once again, there was a massive male swoon.

"Stop you from existing, I suppose," Vila stammered. She was clutching the bottle of Canon so hard that it felt as though it were a part of her hand.

"Stop me from existing?" Esperanza laughed musically. "I've heard that before. You want to see the grease spot the last one of you left behind?"

Vila stared at her, and realized something. She _could_ be the Sue, and ruin everything for everyone, but she _wasn't_. She was a Happy Medium. And, like the voice had said, she wasn't any sort of Chosen One – she was a last resort, actually, which was rather depressing – but being a Happy Medium was still something, wasn't it?"

"You're a _Sue_," Vila said, gripping the bottle of Canon as hard as she could. "You can't exist."

Esperanza glared at her. "They've tried that before, you know."

The bottle of Canon broke in Vila's hand.

She felt the blood run down her palm, along with a cool, surprisingly rough substance.

Without thinking, Vila slapped the Sue as hard as she could upside the head.

The effect was astonishing. Will Turner, who had been frozen, looking as though he were about to step forward, suddenly vanished. The crew of the _Zenevieva_, along with the ship itself, faded away. Vila felt the thud of something heavy hitting the ground behind her, and knew that the trees of the island had fallen. There were probably scorch marks on them, now.

Jack Sparrow, who had been paused half in and half out of his boat, suddenly vanished. A moment later, he reappeared on the deck of the _Black Pearl_, which immediately began sailing away. The rest of his crew reappeared around him, and began doing piratey things.

Far away, at the bottom of a cliff somewhere, the corpse of Elizabeth Swann-Turner sat up, un-decayed, and vanished. Elizabeth reappeared at the side of one William Turner a few seconds later, smiling.

But the most incredible change came over Esperanza herself. Her long, silver-gold hair changed to white-blonde, the part from her shoulders down vanishing. Her dark, myserious eyes became a rather murky brown, her perfect features morphed into normality, a pair of glasses materialized on her nose, and freckles sprouted all over her face and arms. Her curves shrank a good bit, and about six years of her life melted away.

Sighing, the girl tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I'm CalienteTurner6294," she said, holding out a hand wearily. "Which organization are _you_ from?"

"None of them," Vila said, equally tiredly. She took the hand and shook it. "I'm Vila Borcka, Happy Medium."

-------------------

_You did well, Miss Borcka_.

"And I can go home, right?"

_Very well, for your first time_, the voice continued, ignoring her as usual. _Although you want to be a bit more careful about how much Canon you use next time. Too much could upset the fragile fabric of unreality._

"Next time?"

_Well, of course I'll need you again. There are always enterprising Mary Sues out there, Miss Borcka, waiting for their chance to claw at canon._

Vila sighed. She was still on the beach, sitting on a piece of burnt tree. Slapping Canon into the face of a Sue didn't seem like it would be horribly tiring, but then, this _had_ been a rather long day. "Does it always have to be me?"

_As I said before, I've exhausted all other options. Until another Happy Medium comes along, yes._ There was a pause. _But don't worry_, the voice said reassuringly. _I'll let you have some fun next time._

For the first time that day, Vila smiled.


	2. Dude, It's Rairai and Dallas!

**Author's Note:** Yes, I did originally plan to continue this, but I've been a bit preoccupied with school and such, so sorry about the delay. Also, I am breaking my unspoken rule of keeping all my fanfiction on one computer and am writing this on my laptop during chemistry (we're doing nomenclature, and it's unlikely I'm going to understand even if I do pay attention, so I see no harm in working on this instead). Anyway, this is highly inconvenient because now I have to send the file to my desk computer and code it when I get home (Geoffrey, my laptop, doesn't like HTML much). And by the way, if anyone sees a really horrible sort of Mary Sue that they'd like to see gotten rid of in an environmentally safe manner, let me know! I take requests (mostly to make up for my lack of creativity)!

**Disclaimer:** Eh, I'm not sure I'd want to own _Pirates_ even if I could. Too many teenies messing it up, and so on. I do, however, own Miss Borcka and the Voice. Oh, and the names of the two Sues in this chapter are completely random. If I happened to use a name that you used in your fic, and thus offended you: it was a total accident, and I'm sorry. But come on, these _are_ pretty illogical names.

---------------

**The Happy Medium**

**By: Peacenik**

---------------

Vila Borcka was beginning to be incredibly grateful that she had been asleep the last time this had happened.

Being sucked into another world usually happened through explosions, electric storms, random magic, television screens, and, occasionally, even death. At least, that was what Vila had always heard, and she had always considered those sorts of things interesting. When she had first awakened on the strange island, she had felt a strange sort of regret that she had slept through it.

Now, unfortunately, she was realizing that she hadn't been sucked into this world by any of the aforementioned means.

_She_ had been sucked into this world by the simple act of turning on her toaster.

Well, perhaps it hadn't been the actual turning on of the toaster that had done it, but the turning on of the toaster had come directly before the sucking into the world, so they were probably related. Somehow.

Anyway, she had turned the toaster on and then, as if from nowhere, there had been a voice in her head – a strange sort of resonating voice – and verily it spoke, and it said:

_My apologies, Miss Borcka, but we've got another one for you._

Now Vila was being pulled through the vast fandomverse. She had flown past scenes of Munchkins, Elves, Dwarves, and wizards, until the voice apparently realized that this was not her territory, and she had been relocated to scenes of ships, battles, and gory wounds. Through fictional history she had flown, looking around in fascination, until she had remembered, at exactly the wrong moment, that she suffered from terrible motion sickness. Her eyes were now squeezed tight, her hands were holding her stomach, and her mouth was clamped shut to keep anything from escaping.

_Ah, here we are,_ the voice said suddenly, and she jerked to a stop, tumbling out onto a cobbled street and falling painfully to her knees. _You're a bit early, so feel free to make yourself comfortable._

Vila looked around. The last time this had happened, she had found herself on a pleasant beach, with nice white sand and a lovely view of the ocean. This place, however, was compact and white-washed, with sensible-looking buildings everywhere, and did not look like the sort of place where one could easily make onself comfortable. The voice had dropped her in front of a blacksmith shop, which she supposed must belong to Brown, unless –

_No, no,_ the voice said pleasantly. _This is a bit different than the last time. That was post-canon; now we are_ in _canon_. It paused, and Vila could almost imagine it looking around appreciatively. _Lovely, isn't it, Miss Borcka?_

"It's all right," Vila said cautiously. "What am I early for?"

_They've just begun watching. They won't be sucked in for awhile yet. Not until Raivyn kisses the screen._

"Oh." Vila, who knew that it was better not to ask the voice what it was talking about, settled herself on the stoop of the blacksmith shop and waited.

And waited.

_It won't happen for awhile, Miss Borcka,_ the voice said after a time.

"How long is awhile, then? "

_Quite long, Miss Borcka._ The voice turned cynical. _The author feels it is necessary to relate the entire film to readers, simply because no one who reads in my fandom actually_ saw _it_ –

"I'll go for a walk," Vila said quickly, and, standing, dusted herself off.

Port Royal was, in fact, a lovely town. The cobbled streets and little houses were well-kept, if one ignored the diminuitive rats that could occasionally be glimpsed scurrying down alleyways. It was nice, Vila reflected, to get a chance to look around more than a mile-long island. She wondered if she dared ask the voice to give her warning next time, so that she might at least be able to grab a camera, and decided she valued her life too much to ask the voice anything right now, when it was in such a foul mood.

There were a few people about, but as the voice had dumped her into the uniform of a Royal Navy officer and hidden her hair under a hat – for practicality, probably, though it was difficult to imagine the voice being practical – none of them gave her a second look. This was probably insulting, but Vila, who was simply glad no one had seen her fall (literally) into the world, couldn't bring herself to care, at least not right at that moment. She would probably be horrifically affronted when all of this was over.

_They should be coming soon, now, Miss Borcka,_ the voice said after nearly two hours, and she felt a bottle slip into her hand. Holding it up, she read the label – 'Canon'. _You'll want to wait a bit for the opportune moment on this one. You can't just go for them the moment you see them._

"How will I know when I _am_ supposed to go for them?" Vila mumbled, trying not to attract any attention. Visibly talking out loud to no one, although she wasn't exactly talking to herself, was probably counter-productive in this sort of society.

_Oh, I'm certain you'll figure it out,_ the voice said dismissively. _You're a clever Medium, after all._

"Thank you." Vila slipped the Canon into the pocket of one of her many coats and glanced around. "Where will they be coming from, exactly?"

Her question was answered as a large black-and-white swirl, ripped directly from _Austin Powers_, materialized in the air in front of her. She leapt back, throwing herself around the side of a building and catching a glance of the people around her in the process: they were all frozen in place, as though someone had pressed 'Pause' on their lives.

The swirly portal began spinning faster, and two teenage girls were suddenly thrown hard out of it. They lay on the ground for a moment, then stood up, despite the fact that being thrown that hard of out _anything_ should have caused at least some damage, and looked around. The portal vanished.

Vila began to get an idea of what, exactly, this mission would entail.

"Dude," one of the girls said. She was short, tanned, athletic-looking, and had shiny black hair. "Dude, Dallas, where _are_ we?"

The other girl, presumably Dallas, was tall and brunette and had, Vila was overjoyed to see, slight buckteeth. They were barely discernable, but they were still buckteeth. "Dude, Raivyn, I've got no freaking idea!"

They looked around some more, as the people around them slowly unfroze, until Raivyn said "I think this is Port Royal!"

"OMG, Rai-rai, we're in POTC!" The incredible thing about this sentence was that Dallas did, in fact, pronounce it as "omg" – 'ah-m-gh'. The two girls grabbed each other and began screaming, jumping up and down.

A passerby said, unbelievably, "Lol." Raivyn and Dallas grinned at him, and he swooned. Vila shuddered. The man had to be at least forty; _that_ was simply disgusting. Even_she_, closet Mary Sue-envier, had never wanted to be_that_ Sue-ish.

"This is freaking unbelievable," Dallas said. "Seriously, this is, like, a dream come true."

"I think…" Raivyn closed her eyes. "I think we're in the part just before Eliza_bitch_ gets rescued by Jack."

"Come on, Rai-Rai, let's go find Willie-poo, then we can watch us some hot pirate fighting!"

"Woot!" Raivyn exclaimed, and they went raving off.

Vila, still in her hiding place, had a sudden wave of sympathy for Elizabeth, but overcame it and followed the two teenage Sues.

They weren't difficult to follow; apparently, it had never occurred to Raivyn that, in this town, wearing a leather miniskirt and T-shirt might be considered a tad revealing. Raivyn's stiletto high heels looked highly uncomfortable – a thought that made Vila grin with a sort of sick satisfaction – but Dallas was, unfortunately, wearing an annoyingly sensible pair of combat boots with her cargo pants and Good Charlotte tank top.

It was the Diva and the "Punk", joined by their common love of _Pirates of the Caribbean_.

It was sickening.

The two Sues were more than a little noisy, too; they kept yelling out things like "Purple bananas!" and "Why IS his head so big?", which were presumably inside jokes. Vila felt the bottle of Canon, still in her pocket, swing against her leg with every step; it was tempting to whip it out and throw it at them, but probably not the best choice. She had been warned before, after all, that overusing Canon might be a Bad Idea.

The last mission hadn't been like this, Vila reflected. On the _last_ mission, all she had had to do was sit on her nice island and look into her globe/mirror/screen thing, and then hit the Sue with Canon the moment she had the chance. This time, apparently, there was to be no globe/mirror/screen thing – she was going to have to _follow_ them, this time, which she wouldn't have minded doing so much with the last Sue as the last Sue, while all too beautiful and overdramatic and lacking in the department of good dialogue, hadn't been _this_ annoying.

Which was probably why the voice had been in such a bad temper before, and why Vila herself was in a rather bad temper now, despite the fact that she didn't have much of a temper even under the worst circumstances. The last mission had been, simply put, easier.

The Sues suddenly crashed into the blacksmith shop, leaving several dazed pedestrians in their wake, and began squealing.

"It's so cool!" "This is freaking awesome!" And then, together, "Like, OH MY GOD!"

More screaming.

Vila slipped into the shop behind them. They didn't notice, merely continued screaming, and Vila hid herself in a corner.

_Perhaps not the best mode of action, Miss Borcka._

Vila nearly let out a shriek, and made a mental note to ask the voice to please stop doing that.

_They will, after the battle, spend the night of the attack here – you remember the attack, Miss Borkca? – before continuing out onto the_ Dauntless _and, later, the_ Interceptor. _It would be easier to sneak aboard the_ Interceptor _now than attempt to follow them aboard. At least you will escape the attack that way._

"They _get_ that far? To the _Interceptor_?" Vila murmured, careful to keep her voice low. The Sues had stopped screaming, and were amusing themselves by hitting Mr. Brown with various objects that really didn't have much place in a blacksmith shop. A hairbrush, for instance.

_Unfortunately, yes_. The voice sighed._They manage to escape arrest, unfortunately. And you do not want to see this fight, Miss Borcka. It is horribly, horribly…bad._

Vila started to nod, when Dallas suddenly straightened up and stared around the shop. Raivyn didn't notice, merely lost interest in Mr. Brown and wandered towards the bellows, but Dallas began moving slowly towards Vila.

Vila shrank back as far as she could, thanking every deity she could think of for the shadows in this place. She wondered if the voice had made her less visible, because Dallas – despite the fact that she was nearly looking right at her, and moving closer now – didn't seem to see her. However, she was saved having to test exactly how visible she was when Raivyn let out a piercing shriek.

"Dude, Dallas, you _so_ gotta come and look at this!"

Dallas gave one last glance around the shop, and trotted off to her friend's side. They now both had their backs to the door. Vila breathed a soft sigh of relief, and made for said door –

Which opened suddenly, as Jack Sparrow whipped inside.

Vila leapt back and was shielded from Jack's vision by the door he had opened. He dashed down the steps, the door swung back out into the street, and Vila followed it; she escaped just as the two Sues turned from whatever had been holding their attention.

"JOHNNY DEPP!"

"OMG!"

Vila winced as she hurried down the cobbled street, pulling her hat lower over her face. The docks would be by the water, hopefully, unless these Sues had –

Night fell on them suddenly.

_Ah, it would seem I forgot about that_, the voice said uncomfortably. _Yes, it appears that time has been…skewed_.

There were screams from the general vicinity of the docks, and a woman came rushing up the street. "Pirates!" she shrieked, before a single gunshot killed her.

_That was a bit gruesome for a teenage author,_ the voice said, sounding taken aback. Vila started to say something along the lines of "She must listen to suicide rock", but at that moment a gun went appeared, disturbingly close to her ear.

"'ello there, lovie."

Clearly, Vila wasn't as invisible as she had thought.

One of the downsides of being a Happy Medium was that one received no training other than real practice. Members of the other Sue-fighting organizations at least learned how to fight and such; the only things Vila knew were what she had learned on her last mission, and they weren't the sort of practical skills necessary in a battle like this. They were more the sort of things _anyone_ with sense knew – stay out of the way of canon characters, or you'll mess things up; don't draw attention to yourself; resist the temptations. There was nothing in there about battling pirates, or anything else for that matter.

So she did the only thing she could think to do.

She turned and ran.

"Not too feisty, are ye?" the pirate called after her. "Not like most o' the other young lasses we get 'round here!" He raised his voice. "Rather a coward, are ye, lovie?"

Every original character has at least a bit of Sue in them, no matter how small. The miniscule bit of Sue in Vila stood up at that and shrieked "Them's fightin' words, bastard!"; however, this bit of Sue was overruled by the rest of Vila, which was more concerned with survival than anything else. She continued to run, dodging bullets and losing her hat somewhere along the way. Not that she minded; it wasn't as though anyone in this scene was going to suddenly sic a lynch mob on the half-visible girl in the Royal Navy uniform. Everyone here looked rather preoccupied.

_To the ship, Miss Borcka!_

Reaching the docks, Vila dove into the water and began swimming for the _Interceptor_. The waves from the pirates still rushing to shore kept washing over her and pushing her back; Vila grimaced. She hadn't had to get_wet_ on the other mission, either.

After what seemed like an hour – and, given her rate of progress, probably was – Vila reached the ropes of the _Interceptor_ and climbed up clumsily onto the deck.

It was empty.

She supposed it would have had to been; in the event of a pirate attack, it was likely that all available soldiers would have been called to shore. But the fact still remained that there was something unsettling about being the only person on a ship, particularly a big ship. Pulling her red Royal Navy coat around her, she leaned on the rail and looked back at Port Royal.

Vila had seen the movie a few times, and of course had read plenty of fanfiction, but the attack had never looked this _bloody_ before. It seemed as though half the population of Port Royal had been slaughtered; it hadn't seemed that way in the movie, or in any other stories. And there – that little boy! Vila stared. She _knew_ that hadn't happened to him, not canonically. He had been picked up by his mother, she remembered that much–

There was movement at the docks, as three figures climbed into a small boat. One of the figures – Raivyn, it looked like – was comfortably settled on Will's lap; Will, unfortunately, did not push her off and into the water, as would have been fitting, but instead circled his arms around her (slender) waist in order to grab the paddles.

"They're coming here now?" Vila said, but the voice didn't respond. She continued anyway. "The _Black Pearl_ hasn't even left yet, you know." Pause. Nothing. "Perhaps they're getting a head start, I expect the Sues told them all about what was going to happen." The voice was still silent. She sensed it was off sulking somewhere in the back vicinities of…wherever it came from. Wherever it was. "The pirates haven't even taken Elizabeth yet."

The rowboat had, incredibly, reached the side of the _Interceptor_ by this time, and Raivyn was climbing the ropes with unnatural and annoying agility (but still graciously accepting help from Will). Vila hurried to hide behind the door that presumably led below. She could hear everything from here.

"Dude, she'll totally be all right," Raivyn was saying boredly. "She's, like, strong, you know?"

"It is difficult to imagine a woman as strong," Will replied stiffly.

"Ah, whelp, don't be like that, eh? Lasses are all right, ye know."

"Dude, yeah, like Anamaria." Raivyn paused, then laughed. "Oh, yeah, you haven't met her yet, right?"

"I do not know anyone named Anamaria."

"Well, she's cool, I guess. Listen, don't worry about Dallas being taken by those pirate guys – "

Vila had to stuff her fist in her mouth to muffle the sound of her scream.

" – she'll be totally fine. Like, they'll be begging for us to take her back!" Raivyn laughed. "I'm off to get some z's, okay? Outie!"

Vila dashed down into the surgery as Raivyn started down the stairs. There were beds here, at least, even if it did smell rather like a hospital. Making herself comfortable on one of the hammocks, Vila tried not to think of who might have had what amputated where she was currently lying.

The smell of laudanum, leaves, and grog, combined with the rocking of the ocean (Vila firmly pushed the first remembrance of motion sickness out of her mind) proved to be rather soothing. She had never slept on a mission before – although she had fainted – but then again, she had only been on one mission. Vila felt her eyes closing.

---------------

She awoke when the door to the surgery opened. Well, no. She awoke when she accidentally rolled out of her hammock, but was brought to new heights of awakeness when the door to the surgery opened and Gibbs walked in with a new face – a teenage girl face, of course – in tow. Not knowing where to hide, Vila prayed that the hammock would hide her.

"No rum here," Gibbs said in a rather Canadian-sounding accent, and left again.

Vila scratched her head.

That wasn't right. Gibbs shouldn't be here. She couldn't have missed Tortuga, could she? Granted, she _had_ been tired, and she_had_ been breathing in the scent of laudanum, but she couldn't have slept that long.

_You noticed, then?_ the voice said, reappearing in that unnerving way it had and making Vila yelp.

"Er…no Tortuga, then?"

_They were_ waiting _for the_Interceptor The voice sounded disgusted._On the_dock_. Just waiting for it._

Vila tried to laugh. "How would they know to wait? Raivyn sent out a message on her cell phone to her friend in Tortuga, telling her to find Gibbs and everyone and wait on the dock?"

The voice was sullen. _Yes_.

Vila stopped laughing. There was the sudden, high-pitched sound of the plot reaching new heights of idiocy. "Oh."

_We are on our way to the Isla de_ **Morta** _now_. The voice spat out the word "Morta" as if it were some sort of curse. _My beautiful island of death, which now looks like something out of_ Monty Python

"I'm sorry," Vila said, unable to think of anything else to say. The voice gave a sort of "huff" sound, only in Italics, so it was more like _huff._

_Dallas has the medallion._

"Yes, I heard."

The voice _huff_ed again, and fell silent. Vila stood, gazing around the surgery. It had been ripped directly from _Master and Commander_ , and she shook her head at the cages – empty now, thankfully. "Dr. Maturin'll be missing those," she said to herself, and then, to the voice, "Does anything here actually belong here?"

_No,_ the voice said morosely. _Nothing except you, and if these people would just leave my world alone, you wouldn't need to be here either._

"I'm sorry," Vila said for the second time, making her way across the surgery. She started to tell the voice to stay where it was, then remembered that it was a voice, and simply shook her head again, pulling the door open and risking a trip to the deck.

She had no cause for worry. Everyone was preoccupied: the pirates were getting drunk, Jack was steering them through the deadly pass to the cave (and simultaneously getting lost in his thoughts about Dallas, who he could tell was a 'fine lass'), and Raivyn was engaged in a swordfight with Will (and was soundly beating him, which served the double purpose of impressing him and making him rethink his antifeminist opinions). Vila huddled near the stairs. The sky was gray, and she could see rocks jutting out of the water. "Dead men tell no tales," Cotton's pirate croaked eerily, and Vila remembered why she had never been fond of ships.

Shadows fell across them as they entered the inner reaches of the island. Raivyn, Raivyn's friend, Will, and Jack lowered one of the boats and clambered into it, receiving all sorts of well-wishings from the other pirates, who clearly did not expect to see them again. Vila watched them go, then ducked into the captain's cabin and climbed out onto the windowsill. "It's only water," she murmured, glancing down at the shark- and rock-infested waves below her. The Sue in her cheered for this act of stupid bravery.

Unfortunately, the sensibility in her caused her to climb down off the windowsill, back out of the captain's cabin, and sneak back along the deck (which was now empty of drunken pirates). She lowered another rowboat, dropped into it, and followed Sue and anti-characters.

The way to the cave was much creepier than she remembered. Vila glanced around, following the lantern light of the first boat (Raivyn was on Will's lap again. Clearly, Raivyn was the author here, and Dallas was simply a convenient friend). There were hieroglyphics on the walls, and some spray-painted shout-outs to other friends of the author, probably put in there for "comedy" purposes. Vila touched her hand to one of the spraypainted messages. It was still wet.

Still time to restore canon, then.

Jack, Will, Raivyn, and Raivyn's friend climbed out of the rowboat – Raivyn leaning over to help Will, and Jack ogling her arse as she did so – and snuck into their vantage point. Well, Jack and Will snuck. Raivyn's stilettos were not ideal for sneaking, but she did her best. Vila slid in behind them, hanging back against the wall of the cave. She couldn't see very well, but she could hear.

"We're cursed. And this lovely lassie is gonna free us from that curse!" Barbossa roared.

Even Jack and Will winced visibly. Raivyn looked artfully terrified.

"Dude, they're actually gonna cut her!" she hissed to Will as Barbossa brandished his knife (which, interestingly, had been ripped out of _Lord of the Rings_). Will nodded. Vila, though none of them could see her, tried not to look too pleased. There was a sort of quickening feeling in her, as though something were about to happen.

Then Barbossa bent Dallas over the chest.

The quickening feeling reached cresecendo. Vila reached into her pocket for the bottle of Canon.

The knife drew closer to Dallas' hand.

Vila poured some Canon into her own hand and reached for Raivyn.

The knife drew closer still. Barbossa was either doing this for effect or caught in slow motion.

Vila's hand connected with Raivyn's back, pushing her forward. Raivyn let out a yelp and fell, face first, out of the hiding place and into the water below. Her stilettos, T-shirt, and leather miniskirt were almost immediately replaced with pajama pants, a tank top, and a pair of socks as she pulled herself out of the water in a satisfactory impersonation of a drowned rat.

Unfortunately, nothing else happened, other than everyone turning to stare at them.

_You have to hit both of them, Miss Borcka!_

Will's fist swung towards Vila's face as she leapt forward and scrambled down from the ledge. "Don't move!" she shouted at Dallas, splashing ungracefully through the water towards the pile of gold coins. The pirates, unfortunately, took this as a signal _to_ move, and all drew various weapons. Vila froze.

_This_ probably wasn't supposed to happen.

"I…er…I'm trying to help you," she explained weakly, but no one looked convinced. Vila closed her eyes and begged the voice to come back and _do something_. "Really, I'm…I'm supposed to get rid of them for you." She considered motioning towards the Sues, but decided that that would be a Bad Idea, given the amazing amount of swords and pistols pointed at her face. "I'm…serious."

"We need this lassie," Barbossa said plainly. "To be uncursed." He grinned, and it was a real Barbossa grin. "So ye see, lass, we don't _want_ ye to get rid of her for us."

br br

"But it's my _job_."

"And _this_," Barbossa gestured around at the cave of treasure, "is our job."

The voice was still not coming back. "Desperate times, Miss Borcka," Vila muttered in impersonation of it. Taking a deep breath, she threw the bottle of Canon into the air.

A dozen pistols immediately went off at the motion, but only one of them managed to hit – and it hit the bottle. The rest of the bullets slowed down in midair and then backpedaled into their respective guns, as Canon showered all around the cave. Dallas shrieked as some landed on her, transforming her stylishly grungy clothing into jeans and a T-shirt. Jack and Will vanished and (although Vila didn't know it at the time) reappeared a few seconds later where they were supposed to be – in Port Royal, Jack in jail and Will at work, before the attack. Barbossa's crew vanished as well, reappeared on the _Black Pearl_ several miles away, and began sailing towards Port Royal. Dallas slid down the pile of gold coins, away from the chest – which closed suddenly – and she and Raivyn stood in front of Vila. Raivyn's friend (whatever her name was) climbed down from the hiding place to stand beside Dallas.

"Dude, so, there was so much more to go," Raivyn said, clearly annoyed.

"Sorry," Vila said, looking around at the scattered shards of the Canon bottle. "I do go through that stuff quickly, don't I?"

"What?"

"Nothing." Vila turned back to the three Sues, who were now normal-looking girls. "So who are you?"

"IheartNorrie3095," Dallas said, looking at her feet.

"Legomancer2956," said Raivyn's friend, also looking at her feet.

"WillSoSweet9586," Raivyn said, less embarrassed. "And you?"

Vila held out her hand. Raivyn looked affronted, but Dallas shook it. "I'm Vila Borcka, Happy Medium."

---------------

Flying back through the fandomverse was much easier than flying through it, Vila decided.

For one thing, the voice was now in a better mood, although it had chastised her briefly for using up her Canon too quickly (_None of my other Mediums ever went through two bottles into two missions, Miss Borcka…but then again, none of my other Mediums ever did last more than two missions_).

For another, the ride home was much less urgent than the ride there had been. Vila was looking forward to finishing that toast she had never gotten around to starting, but in the meantime, she was content to watch the fandoms go by. It _was_ rather interesting, in a surreal sort of way. The voice would now slow down when she asked it to – she hoped it was feeling guilty for deserting her, but that was probably not the case – in order to allow her a closer look.

And finally, there was the simple satisfaction of a job well done. This one had been more difficult than the last one, but she had still _done_ it, and she had been able to see more of the world than a single island this time. As the voice had promised her, she'd gotten to have some fun.

Plus she got to keep the Royal Navy uniform.

Leaning back, Vila put her hands behind her head and closed her eyes. She might not always like being a Happy Medium, but there were definitely advantages.


	3. Falling Out of Canon

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Nothing much to say here, other than I'm sorry I'm such a slow updater. And besides, Vila is such an incredibly mild-mannered character that she doesn't hammer at my mind, forcing plot bunnies down my brain stem, the way other characters apparently do to _their_ authors (if what I've read on people's profiles is any indication). Thank God she's my only truly original character, eh? I wouldn't be able to handle an author-abusive "muse". Hmm, that rather gives me an idea…

Anyway, sorry about the sloppy QuickEditing on the last chapter, I've re-uploaded it to fix all the tags that were left in.

**DISCLAIMER:** I won't say I don't own anything you recognize, because if you've read the first two chapters, then you _will_ recognize Vila and the voice. However, I don't own anything that anyone else owns. Oh, and again, if the Mary Sues in this story strongly resemble your character somehow (and that's probably not a good thing), I truly apologize, having meant no offense. As I've said before, I don't actually base these Sues off of any other characters I've read. They're just sort of a Mary Sue Melting Pot.

------------

**The Happy Medium**

**by: Peacenik**

------------

Vila Borcka had been hearing the thumping in her cupboard for quite some time now, but had ignored it. Her modest apartment in the world of the author's mind had never been burglar-proof, exactly, and didn't need to be, given that burglars were usually half-finished and deserted characters who had been cast out onto the streets and were simply looking for food. They were rather pathetic creations, actually.

However, the noise had now reached an almost deafening crescendo of thumps and muffled shouts. Vila made her way over to the cupboard and opened it timidly.

"Excuse me, could you keep it dow – "

She froze in mid-sentence. In her cupboard was Will Turner.

"I'm sorry to bother you, miss," Will said politely, with an undertone of deep subdued panic. "I'm looking for myself."

Vila sank down onto the chair behind her.

"I've been thrown out of character, I'm afraid," Will continued. He was looking more and more terrified.

"I'm sorry," Vila managed. This was worse than when she'd first landed on the island. She'd never actually had to _deal_ with a canon character before.

_Ah, Miss Borcka, you found him, did you?_ the voice thundered suddenly. Vila looked accusingly up at the ceiling.

"Can't you leave me alone for _three minutes_?" she demanded, but the demand was weakened by her shaking voice, helped in no way by the slight amount of fear with which she regarded the voice.

"Oh, no," Will said, with definite horror this time. "You're hearing voices in your head?"

"I'm not certain," Vila said faintly.

"Are you going to laugh and tell me that you're insane?" Will asked. "Women have done that to me before." His panic was starting to show through. "They drag me off to hellish, ungodly shops and buy me clothing that I am _certain_ no one in Port Royal would approve of – and they antagonize my fiancée, as well – " Will stopped. "Have you seen my fiancée?" he asked quietly.

Vila's mouth opened and closed for a moment, before she managed to croak "No."

_They've pulled him from canon,_ the voice said sadly. _Last time, Miss Borcka, you managed to annihilate two young women who had fallen_ in _to canon_ –

"Annihilate is a rather strong word," Vila said reprovingly, but she was still rather shaken and the sentence came out a bit more pathetic than she would have liked.

_-- this time, you will have to take care of a character who has fallen_ out

"How?"

_Plot hole_, the voice said simply. _I'm rather clumsy with those, I'm afraid._

"No, I meant, how I am supposed to take care of him?"

The voice sounded utterly surprised. _Why, put him back in, of course._

Vila looked back at Will, who had apparently determined that she was not going to be neither a threat nor helpful, and had sat down and buried his head in his hands. "Shouldn't he not, you know, _know_ about anything they've done to him?"

_Canonically, he should not. However_, and the voice turned mordant again, _this isn't canon, is it? As long as he's out of canon, he can remember all of everything._

"He can remember all of _everything_?"

"Yes," Will said, looking up. His panic had apparently died down a bit, and been replaced with something akin to anger. "I can remember all of everything." He stood and began pacing. "Elizabeth has died several times. I have been entranced by sirens, pirate captains, native girls, tavern wenches, Jack's daughters, the Commodore's daughters, and," he shuddered, "_everyone's_ sisters."

Vila could find nothing to say, other than "You'd think you would be used to it."

"I am," Will said, then stopped. "I am, somewhere in my mind. But I don't usually – I don't often remember – " He stopped again with a sigh. "I'm sorry I bothered you, miss. I must have fallen through the wrong plot hole."

"No," Vila said, "I think you fell through the exact right plot hole."

_Not yet, he hasn't,_ the voice interrupted briskly, and Vila had a sudden mental image of it looking at its watch. _Neither of you have. He's here because he's been replaced by some other self, and I decided it would be safest to send his real self to you. There are so many desperate Sues littering the fandomverse that he could be in severe danger if he wasn't here._

"And I'm going to understand that later, am I?" Vila asked faintly. Will should have looked alarmed, but was too jaded by what he had decided to call infanity – the special insanity that comes only with fans – to summon the energy. After all, young woman speaking to no one had become rather common, now that he thought about it.

_Hopefully,_ the voice said, resonating unconcern. _It's rather a bit crucial. You'll be departing for fan-canon in a moment, Miss Borcka, I suggest you and Mr. Turner –_

Whatever she and Mr. Turner were supposed to do was lost as there was a sudden ripping noise, a falling sensation, and the horrible sound of being torn from canon, non-canon, and the rest of the non-hostile fandomverse.

------------

_-- bloody timer,_ was the first thing Vila heard when she came to.

Opening her eyes, she found herself in a muddy ditch, surrounded by middle-class suburban homes that glinted prettily in the mid-morning sunlight. An engine roared, and a large SUV pulled out of the driveway next to her.

"Goodbye, honey!" a woman shouted from inside the car. "We're conveniently going on vacation and leaving you home alone, we'll be back in three weeks!"

Then there was the horrible voice of an overhormonal teenage girl.

"Bye, mom! Bye, dad!" she called, or rather screeched.

Vila groaned and looked over at Will, who had landed on his stomach beside her. He was shaking, possibly with fear, but more possibly with fury.

"A three-week holiday," he muttered darkly, opening his eyes and glaring at the house. "My other self will be appearing in _her_ cupboard any moment, now."

"I think the voice has gone," Vila said sadly, sitting up. She couldn't feel the Canon in her hand or her pocket or anywhere, but she had a slight feeling of aloneness. "If this is anything like the first mission, it won't want to interfere."

"I remember your first mission," Will said, glancing at her. "That was with Captain Grey, wasn't it?"

"You _remember_?"

"Only when I'm here. At home, I never remember anything." Will looked a bit homesick. "I rather prefer it that way."

Unable to think of a response, Vila looked up at the house. It was a pleasant-enough looking place, one of those houses that you just _know_ is furnished entirely with Crate & Barrel furniture. Creeping closer over the well-groomed lawn, she peered through the window; a teenage girl, wearing her most revealing but still comfortable outfit, was curled on a couch in front of a television currently playing _The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring_, holding a picture of Will and muttering to it – proof of Vila's theory that, if a human being is left to its own devices long enough, it can develop feelings for _anything_.

"Are you certain you should be making yourself so visible?" came Will's voice from somewhere around her knee. Looking down, she saw him crouched on the ground beside her.

"Well," Vila began, and the thought that had been nipping at the back of her mind since their arrival fought its way to the front of her mind, "if I'm half-visible in canon, and completely visible in non-canon, I should be _in_visible here, shouldn't I?"

Will didn't reply, simply looked at her.

"And besides," she continued, "it's only _fan_-canon, after all. It isn't as though there's anything to mess up. It's already messed up the way it is."

As if to prove Vila's point, an Inside Joke floated by. This one was a green pig with small gray wings.

Will opened his mouth, but before he could speak, there was a sudden crash and a high-pitched scream. He sighed. "I believe I have just arrived."

The girl leapt up from the couch, still screaming, and rushed upstairs. A moment later, she came back down, carrying a baseball bat, and hurried into the kitchen.

Vila took that opportunity to make a mad dash for the front door, which the girl's parents had left open --_How do they_ not _expect burglars?_ Vila thought, but she was too glad of the convienence to be annoyed – and fling herself through it. A moment later, Will came in beside her, considerably less out of breath and looking wholly unruffled.

"OH MY GOD!" screamed the girl from the kitchen. Vila winced. This was too much like Raivyn and Dallas for her to be comfortable.

But then again, she thought sardonically, her personal comfort had never been highly prioritized on these missions.

_My apologies for that, Miss Borcka,_ the voice said suddenly, and quite pleasantly. Vila squeaked. _In future, I shall endeavor to make certain that your every whim is obliged._

There was no time for Vila to come up with a cutting reply (she probably couldn't have done it anyway, given her laughable lack of imagination) before the girl came back into the room, leading Will Turner – another one – into the television room. Beside her, Vila felt Will tense.

"Just, sit here, okay, Will, darling, sweetie – " The girl caught herself, but was fairly slobbering. "I'm gonna – oh my _God_, what am I supposed to do? Not that this is a _bad_ thing, of course," she muttered to herself.

"I have no idea what you are to do, fair lady, but I would like to know what this place is, if it is all well with you," the Will on the couch said politely. Vila was certain she didn't imagine the Will beside her's wince, nor his soft snarl.

_Perhaps a plan is in order, Miss Borcka,_ the voice prodded gently. Vila turned – the stairs were right beside her. Grabbing Will's arm, she pulled him up the steps and into the closest bedroom.

Will stopped short inside the door. Looking around, Vila could see why.

There were pictures of him _everywhere_. His face was glaring attractively down from the ceiling, from the walls, from the computer monitor, and from the small television on the dresser, which had apparently been paused in the middle of the movie. There was one picture of Jack, as well as one of Elizabeth with her face crossed out several times and with apparent venom. Will, who was looking a bit ashen, leaned against the doorjam.

"How am I to get home?" he asked Vila.

"How is he to get home?" Vila said aloud.

The voice, inside her head, made a noise like rolling its eyes. _Push him back into canon, of course._

"Right. How?"

_Find an_ opening, _Miss Borcka_, the voice said meaningfully.

Vila decided to go against her own safety advice of 'never ask the voice what it's talking about.' "An opening?"

_A certain sort of opening, Miss Borcka,_ the voice went on. Its meaningfulness was stretched almost to the breaking point.

"Er…?"

_A plot hole, Miss Borcka,_ the voice said wearily.

"It says to find a plot hole," Vila said. Will was looking at her in mild alarm.

"You are…_not_ insane, are you?"

"I don't see how I could be. I'm not really real."

"You are not suffering from infanity, then?"

"I'm not really a fan, Will," Vila said tiredly. "I was rather forced into this. But I'm not any sort of Chosen One," she added quickly, in case the voice was still listening. She didn't think it was, as that alone feeling had come back, but one could never be too careful.

Will was still staring at her. "I tried to hit you last time, didn't I?" he asked in faint amusement. Vila coughed.

"A plot hole," she said loudly. "That's what we are supposed to find. Any idea of how we're meant to do that?"

Will shrugged. "_You_ have done this before. _I_ have only ever been the victim." He looked rather unhappy about this, and Vila supposed it made sense that he should be – he must have been used to the role of dashing young hero, naturally, and dashing young heroes rarely enjoyed being victimized.

Which he certainly was now. Vila shuddered as a loud, boisterous laugh – presumably from the Other Will – filtered up the stairs. "Why, exactly, are there two of you?" she asked carefully.

"I've been pushed out of character. So far, in fact, that I wasn't safe at home anymore. Someone must have been afraid I might try to attack myself. That, I believe, is how I ended up in your kitchen."

"And you don't think you're a bit out of character now?"

"This is not home," Will said simply.

Vila started to say more, decided against it, and simply crossed to the doorway. "I suppose we should be going to find the plot hole," she said, peering down the stairs, and a faint gleam came into her eyes – she was beginning to recognize the canonizing, though it was terrifying (particularly when it didn't work), as being the most satisfying part of the mission. She wasn't certain how, exactly, it would work in fan-canon, but that was probably one of those questions that should be filed under "Things That Shall Not Be Asked."

Either that, or it would be an interesting experiment.

Vila slipped out of the room and down the stairs. Will, apparently relieved at leaving the alarming amount of pictures of himself behind, followed her.

The girl and the Other Will were snuggled up -- _snuggled up_ -- on the couch, watching _Fellowship_. Vila heard Will's intake of outraged breath behind her. That made sense as well, as he _was_ the one who had considered it inappropriate to address the love of his life by her first name, no matter how many times she asked him.

"But that is neither here nor there, Miss Borcka," Vila muttered to herself, as the voice was still gone. Padding down the stairs and towards the couch, she was vaguely aware of Boromir's voice as she felt in her pocket for the Canon – and was more than slightly alarmed to discover that the Canon _wasn't there_.

No Canon.

Vila felt panic rising up with her next breath.

How was she meant to _do_ this, then? Canon was her weapon, it was what she had to use to fix things – how was she supposed to complete her mission without it? Vila searched her mind frantically for any inkling of the voice, but for once there were no sarcastic comments resounding in her head, no annoyance at the disturbance of things.

"You are so beautiful, Calian," the Other Will on the couch murmured to the girl.

"No," Will said behind her.

There was still no Canon in her pocket. Vila, who had paused halfway to the couch, watched in horror as the Other Will raised his mouth to the Sue's.

"_No_," Will said again, and there was a definite urgency in his voice this time. He was waiting for her to perform whatever tricks she'd performed the last few times he barely saw her -- but she _couldn't_.

Vila turned her head away, unable to watch the kiss. This was perhaps as uncanonical as she had ever allowed things to get, and –

She stopped as she saw a dark sky and a midnight moon through the window. "You're so_hot_," the Sue giggled against the Other Will's mouth.

"I know not what that means…" the Other Will began, but Vila wasn't listening.

It was night.

It _had_ been mid-morning.

Time had been skewed.

That was a _plot hole_.

Acting on sudden, heretofore undiscovered instinct, Vila whirled around and grabbed the Will behind her. He protested, letting out a shout as Vila shoved him as hard as she could onto the couch – more specifically, onto the Other Will.

The two Wills merged together with a blinding flash of light. The Sue shrieked and leapt up. There was an uncomfortable ripping sound, and a large hole appeared in the air above Will's head. Port Royal could vaguely be seen in the distance through the plot hole.

Sound appeared to stop, and everything was suddenly slowed down. Another Inside Joke floated by outside the window. The Sue reached for Will, but he was pulling himself head first through the hole. Vila heard the voice in her head -- _Careful of the plot hole, Miss Borcka, those things can be quite dangerous_ -- and then it felt as though the very fabric of unreality itself was wrapping itself around her waist and pulling her back, out of the room and out of the fan-canon.

This wasn't like traveling through the fandomverse. The fandomverse was full of fandoms, full of plot holes, full of Sues wandering the alleys between fandoms – the point _was_, the fandomverse was bright and full of motion. _This_ was flying, backwards, through darkness and nothingness that was energetic in its utter stillness. It was as though things were chasing each other beneath the surface of the absolute black.

Then Vila found herself back in her kitchen, lying on the floor, breathing rather heavily. The voice chuckled.

_Rather an unnerving journey, isn't it?_ it asked, sounding faintly like an elderly wizard.

"Where _was_ that?" Vila asked, getting to her feet. She had a splitting headache, but was unhurt. Thus was the benefit of being fictional.

_I'm certain you'll realize where it was eventually, Miss Borcka,_ the voice said mildly. _If you think about it enough._

Vila started thinking, but her head protested and she made a mental note to think about it later. The voice sounded – almost – as though it were humming. It was nice to have some background noise in the frightening quiet of her mind.

_A good job, Miss Borcka, although the opening was risky. Time skewing is too frequent to create a very large plot hole – I'm surprised young Mr. Turner was able to fit through it._

"I was desperate."

_Understandable. Although that, I'm afraid, was a fairly easy one – teenage Sues are never difficult to eliminate. I'll have you back on the front lines before long, of course. Can't have you going soft._

The inner Sue in Vila considered anger at the implication of soft-going, but the outer Medium in her simply said "I suppose not."

_Canon is getting quite littered, Miss Borcka,_the voice said. _Others are beginning to laugh at me. Not that they understand, of course – my world has always been quite filthy with Sueness, whereas_ they_remember the days before the movies, when Sues were, at least, of legal age for such…activity…as what you began to see back in the fan-canon. _The voice coughed uncomfortably. _At any rate, Miss Borcka, get some rest and you will be up and 'at them' before long._

With a sigh of relief, Vila returned to her previously abandoned toast.


	4. Feryal Hafwen and the Toughest Job Yet

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** First of all, a ginormous happy holidays to everyone! I'm writing this chapter in the wake of leftover turkey, so I am sorry for any errors I've managed not to catch. I do proofread my chapters, but sometimes…you know…that tryptophan can get to ya.

I'd also like to give a special note to the reviewer Birdfood (yes, I know, I hate when authors do shout-outs as well, but the review was anonymous and, thus, I have no way of contacting the reviewer. My apologies!). I _was_ thinking about expanding on the idea, but I'm not quite certain how to go about it. I suppose I could do a sort of prequel, in which I explain the origins of the Happy Mediums, etc., but I'm worried that that would be…well…boring. If you have any ideas, I would dearly love to hear them – you'll find my e-mail address in my profile!

Also, a big thank you to Rose Black for linking to (and praising!) _The Happy Medium_ on HeaveHo, and a shout out to everyone from that community who reviewed. I'm flattered that you all are enjoying this! Thank you for the wonderful reviews!

As for notes about the chapter…anyone who can tell me the origins of the voice's name (yes, it has a name, and the origins are depressingly obvious. My creativity is _so_ not on tonight) shalt receive, from me, a cookie. Oh, and as for the bit at the end, which I'm suddenly worried people are going to ask me about – no, don't worry, this isn't a Will/OC. This isn't any sort of Anyone/OC; Vila's not really that kind of gal. Will and Vila just have a friendly but distant sort of respect for each other, coming from the fact that they had to completre a mission together (sort of), and they also happen to share a name. (Have you looked up the name "Vila" on BabyNames?)

**DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing. No, not even Vila Borcka, for while she is a product of my imagination, I'm working in the _Pirates of the Caribbean_ canon and, thus, everything within is part of that canon, so I don't own her. Besides, none of this is copyrighted to me. Yes, I _finally_ learned copyright laws. And again, if the Sues in this story are reminiscent of original female characters of any other stories, my deepest (well, second-deepest, at any rate) apologies. It was not intentional. My, I'm beginning to sound serious, aren't I?

----------------

**The Happy Medium**

**By: Peacenik**

----------------

There was nothing but darkness.

Well, that wasn't accurate. There _was_ something besides the darkness, but just small dots of light – stars, perhaps – and something even darker than the darkness, which was sitting high up (it was hard to tell what was high and what was low against the backdrop of black, but the thing _seemed_ like the sort of thing that should be sitting high up).

It was vaguely human, and very large; it sat royally on its throne of dark, gazing at something before it.

This something was a small round ball, green and blue and shimmering, spinning slowly in the black around it. The vaguely human thing reached out something that might have been a finger and touched it to the ball, spinning it around faster.

_It is beautiful, isn't it?_ the thing said admiringly.

There was a soft sound, like a muted explosion, and a cloud spread over the spinning globe. Something in the darkness laughed. The vaguely human thing made a motion that seemed vaguely angry.

_I wouldn't laugh, Tolke,_ it scowled. _Your world is doing little better._

**_My_** **world,** another voice said smugly, **is a thing of beauty and language beyond compare, despite its recent pollution.** **_Your_** **world is a haven for the worst sort of –**

The first thing held up what might have been a cautioning hand. _I'm not worried, _it said calmly, although there was an undertone of subdued fury. _After all, I have my weapon, don't I?_

**As do we all, my dear Aegier,** the second voice said, still smug. **As do we all.**

----------------

Vila Borcka sat at the table.

Vila Borcka ate her toast.

Vila Borcka stood, washed the dish that the toast had been on, and lingered – expectantly? – by the sink.

Nothing happened.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Vila went into what could loosely be called her living room, intent on taking a good, long –

_Another one, Miss Borcka!_

Shutting her eyes, Vila felt herself spinning, spinning, and clutched her hand to her mouth to prevent the surprise reappearance of that toast. She could hear the voice at the back of her mind, but it was strangely quiet, and she had to strain to hear it.

_Mocking, teasing, smug, arrogant little – simply because of who he _is – _age demands respect, they say, but it's not age that makes them worship him, those simpering – _

It took a moment for her to realize that it wasn't talking to her, and Vila blocked it out gladly, preferring to concentrate on not losing the contents of her stomach. She had made this voyage before, of course, but hurtling through the fandomverse was _never_ pleasant, particularly when you suffered from awful motion sickness.

Opening her eyes, she saw the ground ahead of her, and put out her hands to ward off the blow that she _knew_ was going to come –

Instead of being hit full-on by a cobbled street, however, Vila merely froze in midair and tumbled gently to the ground. She lay there for a moment, breathing in the reassuring scent of horse, smoke, and gunpowder, her eyes closed.

_Get up, Miss Borcka,_ the voice said, sounding much calmer now. _We have a difficult one for you._

"Oh, good."

----------------

Feryal Hafwen Swann sat in the Swann mansion, sipping tea and looking thoroughly put out. She had been dragged here under false pretences, it appeared; Elizabeth, that horrid witchy sister of hers, had said that Will Turner was coming for tea, and Feryal never passed up a chance to humiliate Will Turner.

Instead of Will Turner, however, Feryal had been greeted with the face of James Norrington as he stood in the parlor. "Good day, Miss Swann," he had said politely, although lust played across his features. Feryal had started to make some cuttingly clever reply – she was so _good_ at those – but then her sister and her father had come in, and tea had been served.

Feryal was no stranger to men looking at her with lust. She was tall and dark, entirely unlike her sister, with long dark curls that fell to her tiny waist. Her eyes were big and chocolate brown and soulful; they made her seem vulnerable, which she _hated_, as Feryal was anything but vulnerable. Her father had spared no expense in the indulgence of his daughter's whims and wishes (although, of course, it hadn't _spoiled_ her); he had even gone against tradition and paid for her to study swordfighting alongside that Turner boy, although women weren't supposed to know such things.

Now, at sixteen, the younger Swann daughter had become a creature of great beauty. The commodore, after being turned down by Elizabeth, had made a beeline directly for Feryal, and had been wooing her ever since the adventure with the pirates.

And he seemed determined to continue that courtship today. Feryal, looking beautiful in a gown of the deepest scarlet, sat at the table and played the part of "demure governor's daughter" as the commodore sprinkled fancy words on the conversation, doubtless in an attempt to impress her. Occasionally, she looked to her family for help; her father, however, seemed quite pleased, and her sister was merely smirking.

"You really are quite educated, Commodore," Feryal said after a time.

"I am," the commodore boasted, puffing out his chest. Feryal bit her perfect lip to keep from laughing. "Received my education in the Navy, of course."

"How wonderful," Feryal said, leaning forward to expose a bit of cleavage. She batted her eyelashes. "And, of course, as a Navy man, you'll be knowing exactly what to do with – _that?_"

Spinning around, Norrington leapt up as he recognized Jack Sparrow's grinning face at the window. Feryal stood with infinite grace.

"Captain Sparrow," she called out, "won't you come in?"

----------------

Vila Borcka was tripping through the streets of Port Royal with something less than infinite grace.

_You'll find her at the Swann mansion, Miss Borcka,_ the voice had said, and she had felt the familiar bottle of Canon drop into her pocket. _I shall have to leave you now – I've got business to take care of._

And she had found herself alone.

Now, Vila was attempting to find her way through Port Royal. She remembered dimly that the Swann mansion was at the top of the hill; however, the island seemed to be made of nothing _but_ hills – hills and idiotic trees that looked like green lollipops – and her legs were growing quite tired.

At long last, the gates of the Swann mansion came into view. Vila staggered toward them, eager to get this mission over with so she could go home and have that nap –

Just then, several pirates rushed past.

"Arr, there it be!" one of them cried, holding a torch, although it was broad daylight. Vila bit her less-than-perfect lip to keep from laughing, and barely restrained herself from crying out as she accidentally bit her tongue. The pirates raced on, barreling through the gates and up the long, sloping drive. Vila recognized Anamaria among them and, heaving a sigh, forced her legs to move so that she could run with them. None of them noticed her, confirming her theory that she wasn't quite fully visible in this world, for she would certainly have been killed if they _had_ seen her – she was still in the Royal Navy uniform.

There was a scream from the mansion, and the sound of breaking glass. Vila, who had never been a good runner, tried leaping up while running to see over the heads of the pirates who had, inevitably, passed her. The scream had sounded as though it came from Elizabeth.

----------------

"Bloody _hell_, Lizzie, just about busted me ear drums," Feryal snapped, slipping easily into pirate dialect. It seemed to come naturally to her. However, the beautiful girl's unladylike language did nothing to ease Norrington's passion for her, and the commodore quickly threw himself in front of the Swanns, sword out.

"Beware, Sparrow," he spat. "I let you go once, and I'll not do it again."

"Tsk, tsk, Commodore, soundin' a bit like young William, ain't ye?" Jack called, wriggling through the open window. His eyes fell on Feryal, and there was a soft "whoosh" inside his head as his brain was blown away by something that may have been metaphorical fire. A small piece of Jack clung to the inside of his skull, battling the great heat. _Quite a girl – who would've thought she'd be sister to a stuck-up priss like the Swann girl?_ he thought, while the small piece that was still Jack wept bitterly. Then the girl's dark beauty fully dawned on him. _Wait…_

"And yer name, lass?" he said aloud. Feryal easily knocked the commodore aside and stepped forward.

"Feryal Hafwen Swann," she said coldly, her voice like music and her upperclass dialect returning. With a neat trick, she relieved Norrington of his sword and his money pouch. (Stealing seemed to come naturally as well.) "Daughter of the governor. And no need to tell me who _you_ are, Jack Sparrow, I already know."

"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow," Jack said wearily, rolling his eyes, and there was the faint sound of weak laughter, the sort of weak laughter that can only come with an old and spent joke. He turned to Elizabeth. "Ye haven't married young Turner, eh?" He wriggled his eyebrows. "He's _not_ a eunuch, is he?"

There was more feeble, tired laughter.

"N-no, Captain Sparrow," Elizabeth said, trying to hide her fear. She crouched behind her sister. "Not that I would know, of course. We're to be married in –"

"Oh, he's a eunuch, all right," Feryal snorted (although the snort did nothing to mask her beauty). "Wimpy, prissy little boy. I've beaten him in swordfights before, you know."

The bit of Jack that had taken cover stuck its head up indignantly, muttering something about how the hot-tempered lad who had nearly _killed him_ was anything but wimpy and prissy, and what the hell did wimpy mean anyway, it certainly didn't sound like any eighteenth century word _Jack_ had ever heard before, but the rest of Jack's infested brain shushed it, as the outlandishly beautiful Feryal was speaking again.

"What brings you back to Port Royal, _Jack_ Sparrow?" she sneered. Then she turned to the commodore, as he moved to stand in front of her again. "Stay where you are, slime ball."

The commodore froze in shock. Jack grinned. This lass looked like the sort of lass worth falling in love with.

"Yer the one who invited me in, m'lady," he said with an exaggerated bow. "And given who ye happen te be, I _hardly_ think yer in the position to be questionin' me presence on this fair isle."

Feryal's perfect dark eyes widened in enchanting confusion, and she lowered her sword as the pirate began to speak.

----------------

The pirates had reached the door of the Swann mansion and, instead of bothering to open it, torn it off its hinges. This meant very little to Vila, who by this time had lagged so far behind that the pirates were at least five minutes ahead of her in everything, but she supposed it was reasurring that pirates would behave like pirates no matter _what_ happened to their world.

Within time, Vila reached the door – or, rather, the empty square hole where the door had once been – and found herself in the foyer of the Swann home. She could hear the sounds of a conversation going on in the parlor, but it didn't sound as though anything had been mangled too badly yet, and she sat down on the bottom of the sweeping staircase to wait. The pirates she had followed had, by this time, dashed upstairs to grab any and all valuables from the bedrooms; Vila wondered how it happened that Norrington hadn't heard them.

There was a noise, somewhat between a gasp and a gurgle, from the doorway. Vila looked up as Will Turner stepped over the descrated door and looked around the foyer. His eyes fell on her – or, rather, _through_ her – and she was unnerved by the glassy look in them.

"I must save Miss Swann," Will said to no one, drawing his own sword, and it was clear that he wasn't talking about Elizabeth. "After all, she has no idea how important she is to me. How _could_ she know? I've kept her true identity a secret all of her life." Finished with his monologue, he looked around vaguely before charging ineffectually in the direction of the parlor.

Vila stood. Suddenly, this mission wasn't seeming so simple.

----------------

"Mr. Turner!" Jack called jovially as Will leapt through the parlor doors. The others turned with a look of disgust. "Perhaps ye'd better join us, lad. I've a feelin' ye know far more than ye've been lettin' on all these years."

"Feryal," Will gasped, stepping forward. Elizabeth gave a shriek of what was unmistakably jealousy and fainted. They ignored her. "Feryal, I'm sorry I've kept this a secret for so long – " He turned to Jack. "I suppose you need _her_ blood now?"

"If it is my blood you are after, take it." Feryal stepped forward bravely.

Unnoticed, Vila slipped in through the door Will had left open.

"Not here, luv," Jack said. He took a deep breath. "Ye see, when I said Will was the _only child_ of Bootstrap Bill – well, perhaps I wasn't exactly bein' truthful, eh?"

There was a collective gasp. Vila reached into her pocket for the Canon and felt her fingers close around the neck of the familiar bottle.

"Bootstrap had one other child – a daughter, named Hafwen. When his wife died, Bootstrap's children crossed the sea, but the ship they were on was sunk, and they were hauled aboard a Navy ship." He nodded at the Commodore, flashing a grin.

"I was apprenticed to a blacksmith," Will said in a monotone. "But the girl was so beautiful that the governor decided to keep her for his own, believing she would fetch a high dowry when it came time for her to be married. Her dark beauty caused him to name her Feryal, which means dark beauty."

Feryal tossed her head. "Why don't I remember this?" she challenged, eyes flashing. Vila took a silent step forward.

"Amnesia, luv," Jack said. "Ye were hit on the head. Yer brother let ye go – he cared for ye, darlin', and he couldn't hope to see his sister have a better life." He grinned at Will. "But he wanted to see ye sometimes."

"You're my _brother?_" Feryal demanded, taking towards Will. "I can't believe – you never – why did you never _tell_ me? Do you consider me that much of a child?"

"Yes," Vila muttered under her breath, moving forward again. She was now close enough to reach out and touch Norrington.

"No, sister, you are no child," Will said, still in a monotone. "You are Hafwen Turner, daughter of Boostrap Bill Turner, a pirate and a good ma- "

"That's _enough_!" Vila exclaimed, leaping forward and grabbing Feryal's arm. The girl shook it from her grasp.

"Do not _touch me_," she snapped. "I do not know who you are – "

"I'm Vila Borcka, Happy Medium," Vila said, pulling out the Canon. "And _you_ are a Mary Sue." She opened the bottle and prepared to throw it at Feryal, when the dark beauty held up a hand.

"No, wait," she said softly, eyes glittering. "Listen, Wela – "

"Vila."

"_Whatever_. Listen. I might be a Sue, but it's not as bad as all that." She smiled and waved a hand at the other characters, who seemed to have frozen. "I have my choice of any of them, right? I'm beautiful and spunky and everyone loves me, everyone appreciates me, except when I need an opportunity to angst. I'm allowed to be whatever I want to be, to change whatever I want to change, and all it takes is a _thought_ . It's a good life, Vila. You should try it sometime."

Vila felt the words wash over her. Her inner Sue had stood up, had drawn a sword, had proclaimed that this was _payback_ for all the times she had been stomped down by her own common-ness, by her own average-ness, by her own _medium-ness_. Suddenly, being a Happy Medium didn't seem so happy anymore.

Feryal kept talking. "In fact, I can _help you_ try it, that's how powerful I am here. I can make you into anything. Who do you want to be? Jack's sister? Norrington's daughter, illegitimate of course? That's a good one, you'll be able to angst _plenty_ then. I can even have you beat out Elizabeth for Will, if he's who you're interested in. Just leave Jack to me, he's all I want."

An image was spinning gently in Vila's mind. It was her, but at the same time it wasn't; her hair was long and golden-brown and falling in ringlets down her back, her eyes were as green as the Caribbean coast. She wasn't tall and skinny anymore, no, she was _perfect_ – lithe and slender, with curves in all the right places. _That's what you've always wanted, isn't it?_ a voice was whispering treacherously in her mind. This wasn't like _the_ voice, it was different entirely, slithering and hissing like the worst kind of snake. _That's exactly what you've always wanted. And what are you instead? Scrawny, plain, spending your whole life fighting people who don't deserve to be fought. Because they don't deserve it, do they?_

Vila's eyes fluttered shut. The Vila in her head smiled – her smile rivaled the brightness of the stars – and beckoned. Feryal smiled as well, a catlike smile.

Then, suddenly, there was a memory, faint as if it had happened years ago, although really it was only a few days. She was sitting on a beach, confused and disoriented and watching a ship in the distance sail closer. _Miss Borcka,_ said a voice, _you are exactly the person I need._

The imaginary Vila frowned. The real Vila opened her eyes.

"Yes," Vila muttered, "they do deserve it."

Feryal, who had been moving closer, stopped. Her eyes narrowed.

"You _do_ deserve it," Vila said, louder this time, and got ready to canonize the Sue –

– when time suddenly started up again. The characters all blinked and shook themselves, as though they had been dozing off. Feryal let out a piercing scream.

"She's trying to kill me!" she shrieked, pointing a perfect finger at Vila. "She's insane, she's jealous, she wants the commodore for _herself_!"

Vila ducked instinctively as Will's sword swung over her head. Feryal screamed again and leapt gracefully away from the Medium, as Vila dove blindly forward. She managed to collide with Governor Swann's knees, knocking him to the floor, and barely missed losing an arm to Norrington's blade.

Feryal was dashing away, towards the door of the parlor. Elizabeth was running after her, shouting – "There might be pirates upstairs! Oh, be careful!" Vila felt someone grab her left arm and, in that exact moment, three things happened:

1. Vila threw the bottle of Canon as hard as she could at the door.

2. The commodore spun her around, glaring at her, shouting words and orders she couldn't hear.

3. A shot erupted out of Jack's pistol, headed straight for Vila's heart.

There was a crash as the bottle of Canon hit the door and shattered. Vila held her breath, waiting for the bullet to strike, when suddenly there was another scream and a dull _thud_.

The scream would have been unimportant, had the bullet headed for Vila's chest not suddenly started going backwards. Vila shook off Norrington's unresisting arm and turned.

On the floor was a puddle of silvery-gray liquid that looked strangely as though it were made out of very thin fabric. Small bits of glass were surrounding the puddle, and in the middle of it sat an angry-looking Feryal, who was rapidly undergoing the transformation from Sue to Suethor. Her long dark hair was shortening and frizzing up a bit; her dark eyes were turning to a rather pretty grey; her curves were melting away. She stood and glared at Vila, wiping her hands on her skirts, which were currently in the process of turning into jeans.

"I already know who you are," she snapped, "so you don't have to tell me. Just tell me why I can't be Will's sister. It is _fanfiction_, you know."

"Which means that you're mucking about with someone _else's_ world," Vila said. She was feeling quite angry herself; she had almost been killed, she had almost been Sue-ed, she had almost ruined everything. "And I've _met_ – well, spoken to – the thing whose world this is, and," she paused, considering whether she should denote the voice as a he or a she, "and it," she said finally, "doesn't _like_ your mucking about. In fact, it would like it if you would respect _its_ world and _its_ creations and stop trying to mess it all up just to suit _yourself_."

The girl was glaring at her. "Your name?" Vila prompted.

"SparrowHunter5295," the girl snapped. She looked over Vila's shoulder. Vila turned as well.

Jack had vanished, and the window he had opened to get in was shut. Norrington was gone as well, as was Will. Governor Swann and Elizabeth were seated at the table, chatting pleasantly over tea. There was a noise at the door. Both Vila and SparrowHunter5295 turned back.

Will was being shown in by the butler. Behind her, Vila heard Elizabeth and Governor Swann stand to greet him; she heard Elizabeth's warm "Will!" and the governor's polite "Ah, Mr. Turner." She saw butler bow and back out; she saw Will move forward to greet the Swanns; she saw SparrowHunter5295 grimace.

But she was _certain_ she must have been imagining the faint glimmer of barest recognition when Will, as he bent to kiss Elizabeth's hand, happened to look through her.

Then Vila felt herself being pulled back, away from the scene, away from Port Royal, away from the world.

----------------

_I must confess, Miss Borcka,_ the voice said, coming back in that sudden way it had and making Vila yelp, _I am quite proud of you._

"Thank you." Vila couldn't help feeling a bit relieved. The voice, strange and prone to bad moods as it may be, tended to have that effect on people.

_You resisted the temptation – that must have been difficult. None of my other Mediums ever passed_ that _test. Perhaps…perhaps you are of a higher caliber of the rest._

"I thought you said I wasn't any sort of Chosen One," Vila said, half in amusement and half in accusation.

_Oh, you're not,_ the voice said, sounding faintly musing. _That is not to say, however, that you are not the best person for the job._

With a small smile tugging at her lips, Vila settled in for the remainder of the ride.

**Note:** The term "Suethor" is a combination of "Sue" and "author." It means, obviously, the author of a Mary Sue.


	5. Emberlynne Olin and the Paternal Pirate

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Just a quick note to announce that the brand new **Happy Medium Website** is up and running! Use the link on my profile or delete the spaces: http:www. geocities. com/ happymediumpotc. The site isn't entirely formatted the way I want it yet, but I'm working on it. Visit, visit, visit!

Besides that, I have nothing much to say, except that I'm starting to get back on track with both of my fics (finally) and should be updating a) more frequently and b) more regularly from now on.

Gudrun Quenby wasn't actually taken from anywhere, I just liked the name and am starting to think I'll be able to use her somewhere. And about the ending - **Vila is not being replaced!** I've become frighteningly attached to her, I couldn't ever replace her for more than...you know...a chapter, maybe two (if I could push away that little voice that keeps saying "traitor!"). Ah, and on the subject of weird voices,not much of the voice in this chapter; apologies for that. I couldn't seem to get into the right mood for writing the voice properly - everything I wrote seemed, well, bad. The voice will _definitely_ return in full force to the next chapter.

Also, and completely randomly, I have just discovered the Mighty Mighty Bosstones – does anyone else think they kick **major ass**?

Oh! And I have to give credit to the idea for this chapter to **EternaLei**. (I am teh sorree about your eyeballs, dood.) **Erinya** also influenced the way I wrote a certain minor canon bit player.

Hey, let's play a funfunfun! game in this chapter: count the anachronisms and inaccuracies!

**DISCLAIMER:** It all belongs to someone else. Really. No foolin'. And if the Sue sounds familiar, sorry, but she probably deserved it. (Gasp! I didn't mean that to sound as mean as it did, really!)

-

**The Happy Medium **

By: Peacenik

-

Scarlett Olin had, in her younger days, been lovely. Her long red hair and pale complexion, as well as her generous curves and slender form, had made her one of the most popular – and expensive – harlots in Tortuga. She had even entertained the famous Captain Jack Sparrow at one point, and she was fairly certain that he had never forgotten the encounter. She knew _she_ hadn't.

Because that encounter had left her with a daughter.

Scarlett, aging now and not as popular as she had been, turned to glance at said daughter. Emberlynne Mona Olin had inherited all of her mother's beauty and then some, from her red hair – flecked with gold that would shine in the sun – to her tiny waist, the smallest on the island with or without a corset and the envy of most of the town harlots. Emberlynne was not a harlot, however; she was a thief.

And a seductress, at that.

"Dear," Scarlett said, her voice croaking from years of cigarette smoke (among other things), "did you get the money from the general? I could see him eyeing you all the way across the room. Don't tell me you missed _that_ opportunity."

Emberlynne sighed, gazing out at the ships in the harbor. The two were settled in their small apartment above the tailor's shop, having "mother-daughter time" as Scarlett called it. The town below was fairly quiet, given that it was daytime and nothing ever happened during the _day_ in Tortuga.

"Of course I got the money, mother," Emberlynne answered after sighing again. "I'm not stupid, you know. I could see him eyeing me." She tossed her hair and it caught the light for a moment. "I don't know why, though. I mean, I'm not even that pretty!"

Scarlett frowned briefly, but self-esteem was not something she considered important and she turned back to her book, pausing only to tell her daughter, "Stop staring out at that window like a fool, you'll give yourself a headache."

Emberlynne sighed charmingly one last time and put a deceptivelyaristocratic hand to her chin. Nobody here _understood_ her.

-

Vila Borcka picked herself up off the cobblestones of wherever she was. She had nearly been back home – she had learned to recognize certain landmarks in the fandom-verse – when the voice had suddenly muttered something that sounded like a swearword in another language and executed an abrupt U-turn, speeding her back the way she had come. _I know it's a trifle soon, Miss Borcka_, it said conversationally, _especially after a job like that, but believe me, it's quite necessary._

The town was fairly quiet, with only a few citizens hurrying past with bowed heads and shifty looks. It seemed a bit unclean to be Port Royal – the smell of dung permeated the air – and, looking down, Vila realized that she was wearing a dress.

It would be wonderful to say that it was a beautiful, scarlet, low-cut dress that accented Vila's curves and brought out her hidden beauty in a way that caused all who looked at her to be taken by her siren's loveliness immediately. Unfortunately, Vila had few curves and even less hidden beauty, and all that could really be said about the dress was that it was brown and came with an apron and a matching cloth cap, which Vila inexplicably found herself holding.

_Pull your hair back, Miss Borcka, and put the cap on_, the voice said suddenly. Vila obeyed. _Apologies for the clothing change, but you must understand that the Royal Navy would not be completely welcome in such a place as this._ It sounded oddly proud.

"Tortuga, then?" Vila asked. Her voice sounded strangely loud in the quiet of the town, and she felt, rather than heard, the voice shushing her.

_Yes, Tortuga. We've a rather unpleasant one, not extremely difficult but quite…well, unpleasant. Why can't they just leave my world _alone

"A pirate girl?" Vila asked hastily, recognizing the signs of a tantrum. The voice calmed.

_You might call her that. She is also a thief, and quite the little Venus, although of course she's charmingly modest about it all._ The voice dripped so much disdain that Vila could almost feel it dripping on her head. She shook the feeling off and said,

"I don't understand how they can always be so modest about it. I would give _anything_ to be one of them."

There was nothing but a sudden shocked, almost horrified silence, and Vila suddenly realized that she'd said exactly the wrong thing.

"I mean," she amended hurriedly, "I wouldn't really, but – "

_Miss Borcka_, the voice said coldly, _you had that chance. Do not expect to have it again._

Vila took a deep breath. The Canon fell suddenly into one of her apron pockets.

_You will most likely not see her for awhile. Feel free to wait and watch for a time; simply remember to keep an eye on things._ There was a sudden "whoosh" in Vila's mind and she felt that strange, singular feeling that meant the voice was gone.

"Keep an eye on things," she muttered. "Keep an _eye_ on things? And which things am I supposed to keep an eye on?"

Still grumbling, Vila set off for a brisk walk through Tortuga.

-

The _Black Pearl_ was anchored in a small cove away from the port, for as unwelcome as they usually were there, the Navy had an unhealthy habit of showing up in Tortuga.

Jack Sparrow had sent his crew off to "get blind drunk, mates, and have yerselves a good time, eh?". He, however, had remained aboard the _Pearl_, lost in thought.

Sixteen years ago, in this very place…Jack still thought about Scarlett sometimes. He had seen her once since then, when he was here with that _whelp_ Will Turner, who was currently off with the crew – Jack had no idea why he'd allowed him to join his crew after Elizabeth cheated on him with Norrington, and where was he? And Scarlett had done nothing but slap him the moment she saw him. Jack rubbed his cheek ruefully, and wondered if there was any way Scarlett loved him the way he loved her.

Not that he'd ever admit it, of course. Scarlett had just touched something special inside him, something that made him want to give up the sea and settle down and have a family. A few sons, and a daughter of course – that was a given. Jack had always secretly, secretly wanted a little girl.

He had to see Scarlett. She may hate him for it, but he had to see her.

Shaking himself out of these decidedly un-pirate like thoughts, Jack calmed his racing pulse and strode down the gangplank. He was so overpowered by his love that he didn't even hear his own voice, faint and annoyed, shouting at him from the singular, tiny little unsullied place inside his brain.

-

"Scarlett!" A man, some tavern owner, appeared at the door. He leered appreciately at Emberlynne for a moment – she rolled her eyes – before turning back to Emberlynne's mother. "Scarlett, 'ave ye 'eard? The _Black Pearl_, she's 'ere, 'er crew's been stumblin' into the taverns like starvin' dogs."

"The _Black Pearl_?" Scarlett stood, adjusting her dress so that her bosom showed a bit more. "And 'er captain?"

"Just strutted on in, like a big ol' peacock. Obviously they had a bit of luck on their journey."

"Oh, _Mother_," Emberlynne said, eyes wide, "you're not going to send me after Captain Jack Sparrow, are you? He'll _rape_ me, the horrid pirate – not that I can't defend myself, naturally, but I'd rather not have to – "

"Shut up, girl," Scarlett said, with such force that tears came to Emberlynne's shimmering emerald eyes. As awful as Emberlynne's childhood had been, with her mother "entertaining" a different man every night, Scarlett had never truly been angry at her. Emberlynne wiped her eyes in annoyance; she hated crying. It showed weakness.

"Just thought ye might want to know _he_ was here, Scarlett," the tavern owner said, and his words held a depth of meaning. Emberlynne's striking green eyes lit up with a sudden flash of intelligence…

-

Vila tramped through Tortuga, holding her skirt up so it wouldn't drag in the ubiquitous mud puddles that, given the strange plant-looking growths and tiny fishy creatures in them, seemed to be small worlds of their own.

Although she did try, most of the time, not to be prissy, Vila had to admit that Tortuga gave a new meaning to the word "unclean".

She was back where she started now, however, which had to mean she'd seen most of the town, and there was still no sign of Jack or Will or Elizabeth or _anyone_ remotely familiar.

Vila was about to start daring to wonder if the voice had maybe possibly dropped her in the wrong place, maybe, when night crashed suddenly down on the world.

The strange thing about night crashing down suddenly, aside from the loud and obnoxious noise it made, was that it _seemed_ as though all that time had passed, but had passed in the blink of an eye. For instance, Vila suddenly found herself tired, and thirsty, and distinctly more frazzled than she had been a second ago.

Obviously, she was in the right place after all; time didn't let itself be abused like that when everything was working properly. All she had to do now was find – and canonize, naturally – the Sue.

And there was really only one place that the Sue could conceivably be found. Or, at least, there was one place where she had to look first.

Calming her shaking nerves, Vila set off toward the Faithful Bride Tavern.

-

Emberlynne followed her mother through the streets, ignoring the approving glances being given her by the slobbering drunk _pirates_. Despite her upbringing and home, Emberlynne despised pirates; none of them were important enough to warrant her attention, anyway. She only robbed the wealthy, and pirates were _never_ wealthy.

Scarlett pushed open the door of the Faithful Bride and cast a weathered eye about the room. "There," she muttered, mostly to herself, and proceeded into the tavern. Emberlynne tried to follow her, but a girl (a rather plain girl, Emberlynne noted with uncharacteristic satisfaction) slipped in ahead of her, and a burly pirate blocked both of their ways.

_Damn_, Emberlynne thought, shaking her red head impatiently. The pirate seemed to look right through the wispy girl and stared with unabashed lust at Emberlynne.

-

"Now then, yer a pretty lil' thing, ain't ya? Care to join me an' me friends?" a booming voice said, and Vila looked up to find herself face-to-face with the broad chest of a brawny sailor. Looking up, she saw that his eyes held a noticeably lascivious gleam.

Vila's mouth dropped open. He couldn't _possibly_ be talking to her…

…and he wasn't. A quick glance behind her revealed an unnaturally beautiful girl, sixteen at the oldest, whose hair tumbled in lustrous red ringlets over her shoulders and whose eyes were greener than bottle green.

The fact that Vila's mouth curled up into a sneer was a mark of how much less forgiving her last mission had made her. Even _she_ hadn't known she was that mean.

Perhaps she had also gained an enhanced survival instinct since the last mission, because she moved out of the way a split second before the pirate's blade whistled through the air and found itself at the girl's pretty throat.

"I asked ye a question, lass," the pirate said.

The girl rolled her sea green eyes and speedily dealt the pirate a painful-sounding kick to the groin. "I don't have time for you and your pathetic friends," she snapped with infinite dignity, sweeping away from the weeping man. The crowd that had gathered (presumably to marvel at her beauty and ferocity) swiftly parted to make room for her.

Vila touched the Canon in her pocket and followed. No one seemed to see her, which was exactly the way it should be.

-

Emberlynne continued on through the tavern, looking for her mother. She caught a flash of red in a smoky corner and immediately made her way over, not bothering to apologize as she ran into, climbed over, and otherwise inconvenienced several patrons. It was a tavern, anyway, and they should have _known_ to get out of her way.

"There you are, dear," Scarlett said, turning from the man she was talking to. He was handsome, with dreadlocks and kohl-lined eyes, but Emberlynne noticed the imprint of a hand on his cheek and smirked.

"I saw what you did to that pirate," Scarlett went on. "I'm very proud of you."

Emberlynne noticed the man covering his goods and smirked a bit wider. "I had to, mother. He got in my way."

"Aye, that'd be me girl, all right," the man said, speaking for the first time.

"_Your_ girl?" Emberlynne said, raising an elegant eyebrow (which was different from the normal kind). "I beg to differ. I am _no one's_ 'girl'."

"Ah, didn't mean it like that, luv," the man began, but Scarlett interrupted.

"Emberlynne, dearest," she said, "I'd like for you to meet your father, Captain Jack Sparrow."

-

Something jolted, but whether it just jolted inside Vila or whether the whole _world_ jolted was up to interpretation.

"I want to come live with ye, Emberlynne, me girl, and Scarlett, me love," Jack was saying. "Now that I know who you are, and you know who I am, and everythin' is out in the open, savvy? Think of it, the three of us all together – a family – " He sounded oddly tearful. "I love ye, love ye both, don't ever want to be separated again!"

"I hate pirates," Emberlynne said, sounding as though she were trying to convince some outside force that was neither Jack, nor herself, nor her mother.

"An' I know this great lad, Will Turner, ye'd love to meet him, he'd be _perfect_ for ye, lass, yer so lovely and he's not bad-lookin' hisself – and then I could be a granddaddy, even!"

Emberlynne tensed. Vila, who was standing behind her, half-hidden by the shadows and smoke, tensed as well.

"Someone's listening in," Emberlynne hissed, and then Vila found herself flat on her back with the wind knocked out of her.

"What do you think you're doing, listening in on our private conversations?" Emberlynne snarled. For such a frail-looking thing, she was incredibly strong – _typical_, Vila found herself thinking, and she mentally berated herself for bothering to make _commentary_ in this sort of situation – and while all this was going on, Emberlynne had drawn a knife and was lowering it closer and closer to Vila's throat.

"Maybe you're new around here, girl, but in Tortuga private business is private, savvy?" The knife blade pressed against the place where Vila's Adam's apple would have been if she'd had an Adam's apple.

This Sue was _serious_.

With an enraged shout, apparently at Vila's silence, Emberlynne leapt off the Medium, hauled her to her feet, and threw her against the wall. "Fight!" she yelled, grabbing Vila's hair and yanking her back down to the knife.

Vila's vision, which had foggified when her head hit the wall, fell muggily on Jack and Scarlett. The two canon characters had frozen, blank looks on their faces.

"Look at them," Vila said to Emberlynne, but she wasn't sure how clear her words were as she still couldn't see properly. She decided to try anyway – "Look at them. They're not cheering for you."

Meanwhile, Vila's fingers seemed unable to grasp the bottle of Canon, for whatever reason – it seemed more slippery, more slimy, and she found herself wondering vaguely if it had leaked somehow.

But then, ah, her fingers closed around the bottle and she slid the cork out. "They're not cheering for you," she said muzzily, "because they can't see me, because I'm not real to them. And they can't see you fighting me, because you're not real to them either." Vila slowly pulled the bottle out of her pocket. "None of us are real, but you're the least real of us all, because _you_ don't belong here."

There was no amazingly lucky marksmanship, no fortunate aim, no miniature adventure with this Canonizing. Vila merely took the bottle of Canon out of her pocket and upended it over Emberlynne's head.

It _was_ amusing, though.

Vision swimming in and out of focus, Vila almost missed it as Emberlynne became shorter, chubbier, dark-haired, and distinctly more freckled. "Vila Borcka, Happy Medium," Vila said hazily, holding out a shaky hand. "And you are?"

"Gudrun Quenby," the girl said, looking both apologetic and embarrassed. "I – I don't usually do these things, you know. I'm a bit player, usually, you know."

"That's good," Vila said, staring at the empty bottle of Canon in her hand and wondering where it had all gone. The last few minutes were a blur – had she already Canonized the Sue? But this…character was too level-headed to be a Suethor, wasn't she? And wasn't she a bit too…not real?

"Oh," Gudrun added, after a moment's thought, "and I'm very sorry about your head. I tend to get – you know – caught up in things. I didn't mean to hurt you, really."

"That's all right," Vila mumbled, closing her eyes briefly. She found herself falling backwards, into the lovely darkness, and the last thing she heard was Gudrun prattling away:

"I'm new to this fandom, you know, don't know what sorts of jobs there are for original characters…I'm fictional myself, you know…I usually hang out in the Potterverse…"

-

The embodiment of the voice frowned as it (indirectly) carried its Medium back through the Fandomverse. It didn't slow down as it usually did; didn't have to be worried about making its Medium sick now, of course, as she was unconscious, and the chattering fictional girl – whom he had brought back with him, for some unfathomable reason – seemed more fascinated than ill.

One could tell she didn't get out of the Potterverse much.

This _was_ inconvenient, however – there was no telling how long Vila would be out of commission, and unless a substitute could be found, which was not likely, the voice's world was almost certainly doomed. Frowning more darkly, the voice tried to block out the persistent sound of Gudrun's "That's where I'm from!" as they flew past a dizzying montage of Hogwarts.

Unless…

The voice eyed Gudrun skeptically. Yes, it was a long shot, but it just might (have to) work…


	6. Iphigenie Aradia, Sorceress for Hire

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** For those who were confused, Vila hit her head at the end of the last chapter (because Gudrun, or rather the Sue Gudrun was being, was an OMGMEENI!11 and threw her into a wall) and now has a mild concussion. Nothing serious, just enough to put her out of work for the next chapter. Or two. Depending on how well Gudrun works. 

Also, OMG! It's a bit late, but I just discovered that this story was mentioned on GAFF as an antidote! _(sheepishly toots own horn)_ I'm glad people are enjoying it! And now I feel horrible about never being able to update properly.

Anyway, this chapter took me an insane amount of time to write, for whatever reason. It's so _weird_, not writing Vila. But not in a bad way...in an _interesting_ way.

**DISCLAIMER:** Unless it's mine, it's not.

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**The Happy Medium**

**By: Peacenik**

----------

There were many things that could be said about Gudrun Quenby. She was short and stocky, for one thing – gifted with the sort of build commonly envied by Dwarven women – and had curly dark brown hair. Her skin was pale and freckley, and her eyes were a rather uninteresting sort of gray. She liked music that was as noisy and persistent as she was, enjoyed books when they had plenty of fighting and things, and could play seventeen songs on the piano. She was very far from being much good at magic – in fact, she was quite close to being a Squib – but she soldiered on bravely. Her favorite color was blue, the sort that those amazingly soft baby blankets always are. Nobody, not even Gudrun herself, was really certain of exactly how old she was; she had just appeared one day in the corner of Hogwarts' Great Hall and gone blithely about her life ever since, largely unnoticed by the rest of the world aside from her pet toad, whom she had named Baldasarre in one of her flights of fancy, and who was her only friend.

This didn't make Gudrun sad. Gudrun was the sort of person who is far too easily excitable, and bad at taking things really seriously, to ever be sad (at least not very sad, at least not for long).

Besides which, she figured, all of the _good_ friends in the Potterverse, the ones it was worth being friends with, were already taken.

Currently, Gudrun found herself in a fairly nondescript apartment, enjoying a cup of tea made by invisible hands and looking after the equally nondescript, unconscious young woman settled on the bed in the next room with a hot water bottle on her head. The invisible hands that had made the tea had been good enough to tell her, in a similarly invisible voice, that she was welcome to go take a shower and wash the Canon out of her hair. She had done so, and now sat wrapped in clothes obviously meant for someone taller and skinnier than she was. She was also wearing her witch's hat, for reasons of her own that none present really felt like questioning.

_Do you understand why you're here, Miss Quenby?_ said the invisible voice. Gudrun scooped Baldasarre up in her hands, cuddling him to her chest.

"I was being a Sue," she said, with a hint of remorse. "And I knocked out that girl." She jerked her head towards the bedroom. "I _am_ sorry about that, you know, I didn't mean to – "

_It will be forgiven_, the voice said menacingly, _if you perform a very great ta…_

"But she is really very light, you know," Gudrun continued. "I mean, it was all too easy to pick her up and just – _wham_ – throw her into the wall, you know." She considered for a moment. "She ought to eat more, you know."

The voice was flabbergasted. It had never been interrupted before – had never _expected _to be interrupted, unless it happened to fall into the head of some spectacularly spunky Mary Sue. However, now was not the time for contemplation: the girl had stopped talking, momentarily at least.

_You will be forgiven_, the voice said, with more hurry than effect, for the girl was opening her mouth again. _If, of course, you perform one very great task._

"Oh," said Gudrun, "I'm not really one for tasks, you know. I mean, there's other people at my school, you know, who're better at that, especially this one boy…" She froze, looking around suspiciously. "You aren't You-Know-Who, are you?"

_No_, the voice, which was not completely ignorant of other worlds, said in disgust.

"Well, I'll still be careful, you know, just in case," said Gudrun, who didn't appear to have mastered the art of thinking in one's head. The voice took a moment to ponder why, exactly, it had thought this girl might be useful, then mentally shook itself and moved on.

_This task_, it said, _is of the utmost importance. You are, obviously, familiar with_ Pirates of the Caribbean.

"Well, it's not where I spend my time, you know, but I know who all of the characters are," Gudrun said proudly.

_And you know what a Mary Sue is_, the voice continued. This conversation had a familiar ring to it.

"_Yes_," Gudrun answered, as though this were the most blindingly stupid question she'd ever heard. "I just _was_ one."

The voice paused again. There had to be some way of getting through this girl's head, but it hadn't found it yet.

_Well, Miss Quenby_, it began, _I created that world. And I left it open to interpretation, as many of us do, simply out of politeness. And I have been dismayed by the amount of_ filth _that has been written into it._ It waited a moment for dramatic purposes.

"That's a bit, you know, rude, isn't it?" Gudrun asked innocently. "Calling them _filth_, I mean." Baldasarre croaked. The voice twitched.

_It is no ruder than destroying the work of others_, it snapped. _Miss Quenby, you may be aware that Miss Borcka's job – at least until she was injured –_

"I am sorry about that!" Gudrun interrupted.

_Miss Borcka's job,_ the voice continued, _was – is – to find and obliterate Mary Sues, with some guidance from myself, of course._ It considered. _Although she does not appreciate the term 'obliterate.'_

"It does sound a bit rough, you know," Gudrun agreed.

_Currently, Miss Borcka is indisposed._ The voice sighed, and then, trying to keep the desperation out of its voice, said, _And you are my only alternative._

"Ooh!" Gudrun leapt out of the chair, dumping Baldasarre onto the floor, and stared blindly up towards the ceiling. "Are you up there? What do I have to do? Do I get to be, you know, like an _Auror_ or something?"

_Not quite an Auror_, said the voice, trying to remember what an Auror was. _More of a…_ It hesitated. _More of a Medium._

"Well." Gudrun considered. "That does sound cool, you know. I get to obliterate people, then?"

_In a manner of speaking,_ said the voice, wondering what it was getting itself into. _And, ironically, this one is going to involve magic._

Gudrun opened her mouth to make some comment, but was sucked into the fandomverse before she could speak.

_And take off that_ hat, the voice snapped.

----------

Vila Borcka, the voice had to admit, was _made_ for being in worlds she didn't technically belong in.

She was slightly tall, perhaps, but not tall enough that she stood out. She was skinny, which meant she was good at slipping through closing doors before anyone could notice her. Her skin was a normal color, not deathly pale or golden-tan, and her hair was that rather plain color that happens when hair color starts at blonde, starts to make its way to brown, gets lost somewhere in the middle, and stops for a rest that turns into an extended stay. And it was the perfect length – not long enough to be put into a telling braid down to her waist that swung when she walked, or short enough to make people give her the sort of look usually reserved for tomboys and other undesirables. She was average looking: not pretty, certainly not beautiful enough that people stared as she walked by, but with the vaguely right sort of features that kept her from attracting attention simply for being unsightly. She had a natural talent for being in the right place in a crowd – not on the very edge, where people tended to make conversation, but not in the center, where people tended to pay attention – and for sort of fading into the background. She was the sort of person people could look _through_, with or without a little bit of invisibility magic on her side.

Unfortunately, the voice was not dealing with Vila Borcka.

Even more unfortunately, it was dealing with Gudrun Quenby.

Gudrun Quenby was small and plump and curly-haired and had freckles. Those were the worst things. She was also younger than Vila – or at least she certainly looked like it. Her eyelashes were rather thick, her eyes were rather large, and she had a snub nose. She wasn't beautiful or attractive, in fact she was more than satisfactorily plain in a hobbit-y way, and no one would have paid her any attention if it hadn't been for that bloody hopping sort of step she had – she was incapable of walking like a normal person, apparently, and instead seemed to half-skip from place to place. In a crowded place like the halls of Hogwarts, which was full of similarly short, skipping first years, Gudrun blended in quite well. In a less-crowded place like the docks of Port Royal, full of stoic Royal Navy men, the combination of the skip and the smallness and the plumpness and the curly hair made her into the sort of person that everyone turns to look and smile at, and probably thinks is _so adorable_, at least until they get to know her.

It is at the getting to know her bit that the dearness of the big eyes and the freckles and the curls wears off, and the dull headache begins to set in.

The voice did not technically have a head, but the headache was making itself known anyway.

_Miss Quenby, _it said, _you do have a job to do. Do you not want me to tell you what you need to know?_

"Oh, yes, you know, you had better tell me," Gudrun said, and covered up the fact that she was talking to herself by pretending that she was talking to Baldasarre.

The voice felt another pang of longing for Vila's reassuring blandness, and began.

_You will meet a Sue presently. She is a witch. Rid my world of her._

And the voice got out of there.

"Oh, is that all?" Gudrun said to Baldasarre, and then felt something drop into the pocket of her apron. Frowning, she put Baldasarre in the other pocket for the moment and felt for whatever had dropped.

Pulling out the bottle of Canon, she turned it over slowly to read the spidery label.

At that moment, an explosion rocked the dock on which she stood.

----------

Commodore James Norrington was a man of an even temperament, strong moral values, and a slightly unhealthy amount of respectability. He was not blind to the evils of the world; he merely considered it his job to eradicate as many of them as possible.

Therefore, he could not quite fathom _why _he had reached out and pinched the rump of the beautiful young woman with the ferret on her shoulder, who was standing on the dock of the _Dauntless_ as he passed by.

He also could not fathom why he suddenly found himself flat on his back, surrounded by green smoke with a strange scent in the air.

The young woman towered over him, her hands on her hips, her long auburn hair hanging enticingly over her shoulders, her green eyes flashing dangerously.

"How _dare_ you," she spat at him. "How dare you _soil_ me with your touch, you wretched imbecile!"

James felt a strange fog creeping over his brain, and said unctuously "I cannot help it if you are pulchritudinous, my lady. In fact, one might almost say you are… _ravishing_." He leered, then shut his mouth firmly in horror, unable to comprehend why he felt as though he'd been force-fed a thesaurus, or even what a thesaurus _was_.

The girl tossed her hair fiercely and hissed some strange words, waving her left hand. Immediately, James flew up in the air and landed with a loud splash in the water to his left.

"Perhaps now you will remember this as the day you offended Iphigenie Aradia Gwydion!" she snarled, then turned on her heel and swept away, her long black gown swirling about her figure becomingly.

Treading water fiercely, the strange fog rolling through his mind, James Norrington couldn't help but think of how utterly _bewitching_ the woman was when angered.

----------

Gudrun, who had rushed – well, skipped hurriedly – towards the source of the explosion like a moth to a flame, now met Iphigenie Aradia Gwydion coming the other way. "Out of my way, girl," Iphigenie snapped, her hair gleaming in the rays of sunlight that seemed to be trained only on her.

"What?" said Gudrun, looking up – way up, because this Sue was _tall_.

"I said, get out of the _way_," Iphigenie barked. Impatiently, she waved her hands and shouted some strange words. Gudrun suddenly felt herself being pulled backwards with not a little force. Sputtering, she landed hard on her behind. Iphigenie smirked and continued on her way.

Unless Gudrun was very much mistaken, the ferret on the Sue's shoulder made a sound very much like laughter as Iphigenie continued down the dock.

Baldasarre croaked threateningly in response.

_She will be joining Jack Sparrow aboard the_ Black Pearl _soon,_ the voice said smoothly and suddenly. Gudrun leapt to her feet, partly out of startlement and partly because that was the sort of thing Gudrun did. Y_ou are going to have to hit her with the Canon, Miss Quenby. That,_ it added, _is your job_.

"How am I going to do that?" Gudrun asked Baldasarre excitedly.

_The_ Black Pearl _is sailing towards Port Royal as we – I – speak. By tomorrow morning, it will be anchored in one of the ubiquitous 'hidden coves' on the other side of the island._ There were no words to describe the voice's disgust. **_She_** _knows where it is. Of course._

"So I have to, you know, follow her?" said Gudrun, already skipping towards the disappearing figure of Iphigenie.

_Follow closely, and don't let her see you._ The voice wanted to add that Iphigenie was the sort of person who would magic Gudrun into pieces if she got the chance, but it somehow seemed wrong to confess that danger to someone like Gudrun. _You will know when the proper moment comes for Canonizing._

"Oh, _brilliant_," Gudrun said. "You've got special terms for it and everything. _Canonizing_. This is, you know, so _cool_. "

Port Royal, while hardly a clean town, was nonetheless a pleasant enough one, warm and sunny. Gudrun hummed slightly to herself as she made her way through the streets, managing to escape notice for the most part, although a few motherly-looking women turned benevolent smiles on her as they saw her half-skipping past. Iphigenie, on the other hand, stalked ahead, shoving people out of her way whether or not they got in it and scowling at the men who dared leer at her. Her black gown seemed immune to dirt, while Gudrun's own linen skirts were turning brown at the hems after only a few minutes.

It took them some time, but eventually the buildings and streets thinned out, leaving the two witches in the rolling hills beyond the town. Iphigenie was still miraculously unaware of Gudrun behind her, apparently lost in her own thoughts. Gudrun herself was nearly running to keep up, the skirts and petticoats she was wearing seeming to have gained weight exponentially under the hot Caribbean sun.

There was a crashing sound, and it was suddenly dark and cool. Gudrun reeled, clutched her head, and looked up at the perfectly nonchalant moon. "Ouch," she said, and would have said more in that general vein if it she weren't suddenly forced to stop and bat ferociously at the mosquitos that had apparently come out of nowhere.

Iphigenie had stopped on the edge of a cliff, apparently having no more use of the daytime, and was basking in the night, hands on her hips. Her skirts swirled mysteriously in the light breeze, her hair shone in the gleam of the moon, her lovely face was tilted towards the sea. If Gudrun had known what it felt like to feel ungainly, she would have felt it right then.

As it was, however, she merely felt sore and rather agitated, which was a new feeling for her. And, of course, there was the tiredness. Gudrun, who spent her days skipping through the halls of a mischevious but mostly benign castle, was more tired than she had ever been in her life. It was not only the exhaustion from the bit of walking that she _remembered_, which had to have been at least an hour – there was the added exhaustion of the _implied _traveling, which tended to be the most difficult part of getting used to sudden nightfalls.

On the edge of the cliff, with the waves crashing below, Iphigenie knelt and waved her hands a bit to create a fire. She lay down next to it, rolled up her cloak to create a pillow, and slept, her face soothed into perfect, graceful serenity.

Behind a tree, Gudrun pulled her witch's hat out of the front of her apron and set it on the ground. She sank to the grass gratefully, laid her head on the hat, took her wand out of her pocket and laid it reassuringly beside her head, and fell asleep almost immediately, her brow slightly creased and her hand still seeking and destroying mosquitos.

----------

Morning came all too swiftly, and Gudrun awoke to the muggy smell of a tropical morning. It was a few moments before she remembered where she was, not being used to chirping birds and attractively drooping flowers.

She rolled to the side, and immediately leapt to her feet. The _Black Pearl_ was anchored in the small cove, and Iphigenie was standing on the cliff again, her auburn hair blowing in the wind and her arms crossed in front of her chest. Gudrun stuffed her hat back down the front of her apron, put her wand in a pocket, and crept closer.

"So we meet again, Jack Sparrow," she heard Iphigenie say. "Perhaps the sorcery of Iphigenie Aradia Gwydion will have taught you your lesson by now. Perhaps you will have learned that it is wiser not to deal with one more masterful than the _gods themselves_." She grinned, a horrible wicked grin that nonetheless simply made her all the more stunning.

Gudrun watched, her heart pounding. This was the most amazing thing she'd _ever done_.

A few moments, and Jack Sparrow swaggered up to the top of the cliff where Iphigenie was waiting. Upon seeing her, he stopped dead.

"Miss Gywdion," he said after a moment of silence, giving an exaggerated bow and offering his hand. "May I say, luv, you look _ravishing_ this fine morn."

Iphigenie tossed her head. "I have been waiting for you, Sparrow."

"_Captain_ Sparrow, luv," Jack said, grinning at her. "And I've no doubt you were."

Iphigenie started to reply, then suddenly tensed and looked behind her. "We are not alone," she hissed.

Gudrun, who had done this herself not long ago, swiftly hid behind the closest tree. Her skirts were brown enough with dirt that she was fairly well camoflauged.

"Perhaps you would prefer to speak aboard me ship, luv," Jack proposed. "As private as you could wish, aboard me _Pearl_." He grinned suggestively. Iphigenie's hand twitched, and Jack suddenly found himself flat on his back.

"Is that the only spell she _knows_?" breathed Gudrun.

"Do not play games with me, Sparrow," Iphigenie snarled, looming over the pirate. With that, she turned and strode down the narrow path to where the ship was waiting.

Jack got to his feet and waited a moment, looking around vaguely. "Beautiful, ain't she," he said, apparently to no one, before following the retreating form of the witch.

Gudrun, safe for the moment, skipped covertly after them.

----------

The crew of the _Black Pearl_ had gathered around Iphigenie almost as soon as she had come on board, and she stood in the middle of them, shouting, as they all catcalled and hooted.

"Get out of my way!" she bellowed threateningly.

"Ah, what's a pretty lass like yerself gonna do to us," sneered Gibbs, looking her up and down appreciatively. Jack stood off to the side, still grinning rather emptily.

It was to this sight that Gudrun clambered on board. She had had a difficult time with the ropes, being neither slim and lithe like Iphigenie nor utterly made for shipboard life like Jack, and it was perhaps the miracle of the Voice's power that finally allowed her to struggle her way up the side.

She found herself behind a convenient barrel on the otherwise empty deck (empty, that is, of everything but pirates), which was obviously completely wrong, but the wrongness of the whole thing passed easily over Gudrun's head. Instead, she peeked out from behind her barrel, watching the crew drool over Iphigenie.

The sight grated, slightly, on even Gudrun's considerably tolerant nerves.

There was a sudden crack of light, and various members of the crew were thrown violently away from the general direction of Iphigenie. Silence fell over the entire deck. Jack watched her approvingly.

"I warned you," Iphigenie said silkily. She looked around at the thunderstruck crew, smirking. Her gaze lingered slightly on the barrel hiding Gudrun, then traveled on to rest on Jack. "Shall we adjourn to your lodgings, captain?"

The moment Iphigenie was out of sight, the entire crew froze in place and the ship began sailing automatically. There was silence for a few moments, aside from the whipping of the sails and the creaking of the decks, before the ship suddenly found itself in the middle of the ocean. Gudrun looked around with interest. She'd never actually seen the ocean before.

Night crashed down upon the world in the next few minutes. Jack and Iphigenie remained cloistered in the captain's cabin. The crew didn't move.

Gudrun, who had begun feeling very stiff as soon as night came, came out from behind her barrel and settled down with her back against it, watching the crew. None of them noticed her.

Suddenly, a huge explosion rocked the night sky. Iphigenie hurtled out of the cabin, Jack on her heels. Gudrun leapt to her feet, because it seemed like the right sort of thing to do. The crew began moving animatedly.

"It's _him_!" Iphigenie shrieked at the stars. A huge green ball of light had appeared at the prow of the ship, and mysterious laughter filled the air. "It is he of whom I spoke, Jack Sparrow! He has found me!" She collapsed against Jack's chest, sobbing. The crew, despite having faced cursed pirates (as well as the other normal mystical bits of sailing life, such as Jonahs and seagulls and St. Elmo's fire), was thrown immediately into terror by the sight of something so obviously magical and so obviously wrong.

Gudrun stepped forward, her palms itching strangely. The ship was in too much turmoil for anyone to notice her.

"But you are more powerful than the gods!" Jack Sparrow cried. "You are an enchantress of the greatest eminence! You can fight him! "

"At least I, you know, had him _speak_ right," Gudrun said to Baldasarre with some amount of disdain.

Iphigenie pulled herself away from the dubious comfort of Jack's embrace and stood facing the large ball of light, chanting. The crew wailed in petrification as she glowed strangely and shot bolts of fire at the green light. Then, her powers seemingly having failed her, she fell to her knees. "Help me, Rhiannon, goddess of witches!" she screamed. "Help me or I shall die a harrowing, ghastly death as a panoply, trying to shield those who – " She paused suddenly, her frame tensing, then leapt up and whirled to point a finger at Gudrun. "There!" she shrieked. "One of his minions! One of his sycophants! Destroy her!"

The entire crew whirled on Gudrun, weapons out. Some of the ones who were less affected by the Sue's beauty, notably Anamaria, had looks of doubt on their faces when confronted, not with a fiery demon with a flaming sword, but a small freckled girl holding a toad.

"She beguiles you, the imposturous dissimulator! Be not swindled by her specious manifestation! Kill her now!"

The crew advanced slowly on Gudrun, who backed away with considerably more speed. She was not the sort of person who really felt nervousness or anxiety, but _no one_ is immune to fear.

"I'm not…um…you know," she said, groping for something to say. One of the crew made an experimental poke at her with his sword. She dodged it and backed up until her back met with the solid wall of the captain's cabin.

"Now!" Iphigenie screeched, and immediately the crew lunged at Gudrun. The Medium yelled in terror and threw herself forward. Fortunately, she was quite the right height for bowling people over; she dashed through a world of belt buckles and high boots and came out all right on the other side, leaving the crew fighting themselves in confusion.

It should be noted here that this would have been impossible – the crew would not have been so braindead as to let her escape – if it were not for the Sue's intrusion into their world, which, it has to be said, left everything _hopelessly_ screwed up.

As it was, however, Gudrun hurtled across the deck and dove at Iphigenie, knocking her to the ground. She pulled the Canon out of her pocket and was about to uncork it when Iphigenie rolled them over, lifted Gudrun her apron straps, and held her close to her face. The ferret, which had suddenly transformed into a tiger, growled at Gudrun's feet.

"You're _jealous_," Iphigenie said, and suddenly the deck was quiet, the crew was still, the ball of green fire looked far less threatening.

"I am not jealous," said Gudrun, but something had begun to trickle into her mind that had never been there before, that didn't _belong_ there.

"You are." The Sue closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and fixed Gudrun with a glittering smile. "I know all about you, now. You're short and you're plain and you're no good at magic, and then you see _me_, tall and beautiful and more powerful than the gods themselves, and you want to destroy me because I'm exactly what you're not." She laughed smoothly. "I'm exactly what you can _never_ be."

Gudrun opened her mouth to reply, but was, for once in her life, finding it difficult. Someone like Gudrun is not made to feel envy, and yet it was coursing through her. The Sue was _right_. She _was_ short and plain and no good at magic, and she didn't even have any friends aside from a stupid _toad_, whereas everyone was awestruck by Iphigenie, who had a shape-shifting ferret, and why was she doing this again? This wasn't her job, it wasn't as though she had anything to defend in this world anyway – or her own world, to mention it. This was the job of someone skinny and nondescript who was probably just jealous anyway.

Iphigenie set Gudrun down and gave her a gentle pat on the head. "Fear not, sweet Gudrun," she said kindly. "I shall become your mentor, and you my apprentice. I can teach you to become a _real_ witch, one who has no need of the laws of mortality. I can help you, gentle child."

Gudrun stared at her. Something had come back to her, something vague and almost forgotten. _I_ am _a real witch_, she found herself thinking. I_ can do more than_ this _bint ever could_. It was the first truly spiteful thought she'd ever had, and it felt _strange_.

"You're not a witch," Gudrun said. As Iphigenie's face went from confusion, to astonishment, to rage, Gudrun took her witch's hat, still slightly wrinkled from its short sojourn as a pillow, out of the front of her apron and placed it carefully on her head. "_I_ am a witch."

And with that, she cracked the bottle of Canon against the Sue's head.

The effect was miraculous. The deck, heretofore empty of everything a real ship would have had on its decks, was suddenly filled with masts and barrels and ballasts and guns and all sorts of other necessary things. The crew came out of its trance and began going about the sort of tasks that are needed in order to sail a ship. Jack dashed to the helm and shouted orders. The ball of green fire disappeared.

And Iphigenie? She swayed a bit from her blow to the head, but managed to remain standing. She shrank a good deal as well, until she was Gudrun's height; her hair shortened and frizzed a bit, her sparkling emerald eyes turned brown and were covered by large ungainly glasses. In her hands, she held a large thesaurus.

"Wow," the girl said, looking around with wide eyes. "I'm – I'm really sorry about that. Look, I'm Xanadu1852, and – wow. I guess it's good we didn't get far enough for me to start on the love story, right?" She held out a hand apologetically. Gudrun took it.

"I'm Gudrun Quenby," she said. "And, you know, I guess I'm a Happy Medium."

----------

Vila Borcka was suspicious of this long silence on the voice's part, but hardly the sort of person not to take advantage of a time for rest. She was settled in bed, eating a bowl of soup and reading Wodehouse, when the door to her apartment slammed.

There was the sound of running feet, and then a girl ran into the room. "Do you get to do that every day?" she exclaimed, dancing around Vila's bed. "That is, you know, so _brilliant_!"

"I…um…" Vila stared at the girl. She seemed vaguely familiar. "Are you…?"

"Gudrun Quenby. I gave you that concussion," the girl said, her voice filled mostly with remorse but with a little bit of pride. "And as punishment I had to do your job, but, you know, I don't really think it was punishment, it was more than I _usually_ get to do, you know." She beamed at Vila.

"Who was the Sue?" Vila asked, putting down her book. Gudrun hopped a little bit in place.

"She was a witch, you know, or she said she was at least, but she wasn't a real one. It was quite difficult, you know, she got into my _mind_…" A shadow passed over Gudrun's face, and she looked rather lost for a moment, then brightened. "But it was brilliant all the same. The Caribbean is really very beautiful, you know, and the Sue…well, she was quite nice at the end. She was sorry, you know. She said it was good we hadn't gotten to the love story."

"Bad things happen to good people, I suppose," Vila said.

_Or,_ came the voice of the voice, _perhaps, if you would look at it from a cynic's point of view, good people simply do bad things._ It coughed smoothly. _Are you feeling better, Miss Borcka?_

"Slightly," Vila said, hoping the voice would take that as a 'no.'

_Good_, the voice said briskly. _Because, Miss Borcka, they are getting_ worse.


	7. Sweet, Beautiful, Charming

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: Not _entirely_ sure when this will be posted, as I think I broke the Internet, but no harm in writing a bit in advance, eh? Anyway, I'm reverting back to the Classic Mary Sue ™ for this one, so forgive me if it sounds a bit familiar.

Wait, no, they _all_ sound familiar, don't they? You can't really have an _unfamiliar_, _creative_ one, can you? Never mind!

**Laiqualaurelote:** Indeed, most of the cool words in the last chapter came from a thesaurus. Amazing things, aren't they?

And I'm glad everyone liked Gudrun's Last Stand (although it wasn't really her last, I think). Now I'm going to give you Vila back, as she seems to be the crowd favorite. (She'd be mortified if she knew that, by the way.)

Anyway, we haven't done Will (snerk) in awhile, have we? And I _know_ we haven't seen Unrequited!Sue before…

**DISCLAIMER:** Mine? Why, no, sir. And I apologize to my readers, many of whom will probably die from the overdose of corny in this chapter, and to the honorable Bee Gees. I wouldn't have abused you so, Bee Gees, but I couldn't bring myself to blashpeme my beloved Beatles. _(looks ashamed)_ And I apologize to Tolkien, to whom I should probably have apologized when I dropped the first hint of him in chapter two. And 'Jive Talkin' is used at the end because it's simply the perfect sort of song to sing for a Sue.

----------

**The Happy Medium**

**By: Peacenik  
**

----------

Vila found herself, once again, in the fandomverse, clutching her head and stomach alternately and trying to ignore Gudrun's shrill commentary at her side. "I came this way before, you know," Gudrun was saying. "See, that – _there!_ I saw _that_ last time, you know!"

"We always come this way," Vila said, but her voice was very faint. "You could have given me a bit more warning," she added to the voice, looking upwards at the swirling, starry blackness above them that wasn't quite night.

Characteristically, the voice didn't bother to respond to that, but instead asked _How's your head, Miss Borcka? _with a kindness that was too kind to not be sarcasm.

Vila turned back to Gudrun, who was pinching her arm to get her attention and trying to point out various other landmarks she recognized. "At least I have company," she murmured dubiously to herself.

They came to a sudden halt in Port Royal, tumbling onto the shining clean cobblestones and, in Vila's case, squinting against the sudden, almost unnatural amount of sun beaming down on them.

"Oh, it looks nice!" Gudrun exclaimed, standing up and dusting herself off.

And, indeed, it did.

Vila had seen Port Royal before. It was a pleasant enough little town, sensible and…well…pleasant.

But it was still a _town_, a _colonial port town_, to be more exact, and, therefore, had its share of mud, grime, dirt, filth, dust, etc. It may not have been as sinfully, decadently filthy as Tortuga, but it was a town inhabited by sailors and workingmen, both of whom tended to accumulate a fair amount of grime, not to mention the white, crusty salt that came naturally from being in the Caribbean.

Which certainly meant that the buildings shouldn't be looking so _shiny_ right now.

Vila stared around her in amazement. It was as though someone had taken a shipful of 21st-century cleaning fluids and dumped the entire lot over the town, then sent in a Maid Brigade to scrub the place from top to bottom. The cobbled streets shone, the windows – all of which, anachronistically, had glass in them – sparkled, the whitewashed buildings gleamed, and from far away there came the faint sound of singing.

_I have nothing wrong with happiness, _said the voice, and Vila jumped. _Or cleanliness, indeed. But there are certain things…certain_ limits_…that one cannot…_ It sounded as though it were on the verge of choking, or possibly having a nervous breakdown. Vila turned her eyes to Gudrun, who was staring down the street, her hand shading her eyes.

"There she is," Gudrun said, pointing. "She's pretty. And doesn't look, you know, like she thinks she's_magic_." She looked faintly haughty.

Vila looked where Gudrun was pointing, barely registering it as the Canon dropped into her apron pocket. The Sue was coming down the street towards them – one could tell because every man on the street was turning around, eyes bulging out of their sockets – her arms filled with flowers and herbs and her mouth opened to give voice to her sublime song:

"_I admit it, I'm really a dreamer  
And I'm reachin' for a star too high up there for hangin' on  
And baby, I believe in 'for all time'  
And the miracle of your love and mine  
It's a lonely feelin' when the meaning's gone!_ "

She was, as Gudrun had said, pretty. In fact, she was very pretty. Her hair was curled into ringlets that weren't blonde, but positively _golden_. Her skin was the color commonly called alabaster, her eyes were big and deep blue with long full lashes. She was wearing a long, light brown skirt and a pink bodice over it, with a low-cut neck that showcased the unlikely-sized bust she managed to pull off despite her wispy figure.

Vila felt the slightly-familiar tremor of jealousy run through her, but stood up straight and put her shoulders back.

"Well," she said. "We've got to wait until she does something _wrong_ to Canonize her, but we'd better follow – "

"I know that," Gudrun said, with a touch of pride. "I just did this, you know. Only mine," she added with vague smugness, "was, you know, _much_ more difficult than this one."

"Mine have been, too," Vila said, a competitive streak she didn't know she had emerging. "But we don't know how difficult she is. The voice said they were getting worse, remember?"

"And you've been, you know, off the job," Gudrun continued thoughtfully, "so you haven't had to deal with any of the _worse_ ones yet. The last one you had was, you know, _me_, and I wasn't that bad."

Vila started to reply, but closed her mouth and sank back into a small alley, pulling Gudrun with her, as the Sue passed them.

A sickeningly sweet scent of roses followed the Sue as she waltzed past, still singing enchantingly. Vila grimaced, sliding out from her hiding place and, Gudrun in tow, followed the girl down the unnaturally clean Port Royal streets.

A door opened ahead of them and Will Turner emerged, his hair gleaming in the sunlight and making him look, for the moment, like some golden ethereal being from a distant world…

The voice snarled something under its breath – if indeed it had breath – that sounded suspiciously like _Stay out of my world, Tolke._ Vila and Gudrun ignored it, Vila because her head hurt too much to listen to it and Gudrun because she tended to ignore things like that anyway.

"Will!" the Sue exclaimed, running forward and scattering flowers as she did. "Oh, Will, how wonderful it is to see you!" Her voice was magically, wondrously, supernaturally beautiful. Vila winced. She'd had a bad enough headache as it was without hearing _that_.

"Indeed, it has been awhile, Aurelia," Will said, embracing her. "I have missed you, you know."

"Not nearly as much as I have missed you," Aurelia replied, looking up at him through thick, dark lashes, her cherry-red lips – just begging to be kissed – forming a small pout…

Will coughed and stepped away from her. There was a silence that would have been awkward if this weren't a Sue-story.

"Well," Will said after a moment, "I'd best be going. I'm on my way to the Swann mansion – I'm having tea with Elizabeth." He motioned vaguely in the direction of the governor's mansion. Aurelia's striking blue eyes filled with sadness, and she turned away slightly, just enough for Will to admire her stunning profile.

"Of course," she said mournfully. "Do tell _Miss Swann_ hello for me."

"Aurelia," Will said reprovingly. "Elizabeth isn't nearly as bad as you think she is. I know she's never been kind to you, but perhaps you two just weren't meant to be friends."

"Perhaps not," Aurelia said with sweet sadness. "Although I cannot bear the thought that a person in this town bears me ill will." She sighed. "Good day, Will."

Will curtsied – sorry, bowed – and strode away. Aurelia watched him go, her lip quivering.

"Will he ever know?" she lamented. "Will he ever understand?" She opened her mouth again to sing.

"_You don't know what it's like, baby  
You don't know what it's like  
To love somebody  
To love somebody_

_The way I love you!_ "

With that, she burst into artful sobs and buried her face in her hands, her armful of flowers and herbs conveniently having disappeared.

"Oh, poor girl," Gudrun said, this Sue obviously not grating on her nerves as much as the last one had.

Vila put a hand to her head.

Aurelia suddenly broke out of her sobs and looked around wildly. "Shall my love be forever doomed?" she wailed, and dashed away down the street, holding her skirts high. Passerby watched her sympathetically, whispering to one another. Couldn't that foolish Turner boy see what he was throwing away for that horrid Governor's brat?

Evidently, that foolish Turner boy was close to capable of such on epiphany, but not quite there yet. Gudrun, whom Vila had sent to keep an eye on Will and Elizabeth while she followed Aurelia, was hidden under the veranda of the Swann mansion, listening in on tea and munching quite happily on a biscuit that someone had dropped.

"Will," Elizabeth said sweetly, "I heard you saw that Mietta girl again this afternoon."

"Aurelia Mietta?" There was the clink of china. "Indeed I did. She is one of my best friends, Elizabeth."

"I don't like her, Will." Gudrun could almost hear Elizabeth pursing her lips. "She's…she's far too pretty. And so _kind_ to everyone, even the _peasants_. Does she think she'll get a _husband_ that way?" Elizabeth gave a very unladylike snort.

"Aurelia doesn't want a husband," Will said dreamily. "She's sworn off love. Some fool broke her heart," he added with a snarl. "Some fool was too stupid to see how sweet and beautiful and charming she was, and never returned her love, although she gave him her heart. She never told me who."

"Sweet? Beautiful? Charming? Will, she's practically a _gypsy_! Have you _seen_ her clothes?" Elizabeth snorted again and gulped down some of her tea. "Anyway, when we're married I shan't tolerate having her running about the house, singing her silly songs."

"Aurelia sings from the heart!"

"She has a silly little heart," Elizabeth snapped. "Nothing to sing about. Or from." She sighed, obviously muddled, and continued "I don't like her, Will, and I forbid you to see her anymore."

"But, Elizabeth…"

"Will," Elizabeth said with an audible pout, "if you love me, you won't see her anymore."

Will's defeat was tangible. "Yes, Elizabeth," he replied.

Gudrun, licking biscuit crumbs off her fingers, wondered idly where Will's backbone had gone.

----------

Aurelia had come to rest on a beach far outside of town and was now standing in the surf, letting the waves crash over her feet with her head tilted up to the sun. She cut a pretty picture against the green-blue of the ocean.

Vila was, much to her chagrin, skulking in the shadow of some trees at the edge of the beach, reduced to doing nothing but _watching_ until Aurelia actually did something _wrong_. She had been tempted to Canonize her already, but a little voice – not that voice – had reminded her that Aurelia hadn't actually done anything wrong yet, because what was to say Will _hadn't_ had a beautiful friend named Aurelia Mietta at some point between the adventure with Jack and his marriage to Elizabeth?

To that end, the little voice had continued, what was to say Jack hadn't had a daughter, or hadn't met a sorceress, or…well…it did have to be admitted that Will couldn't have had a sister, but why couldn't two 21st-century girls have fallen into the respective laps of Will and Jack at _some point_ in –

At that point, Vila had cut the little voice off with a firm mental "Shut it, Inner Sue" and, as an afterthought, "I have a headache".

So she was now lounging in the shade of some trees which, incidentally, sounded far less sketchy than "skulking in the shadow of some trees", watching the embodiment of her crushed hopes and dreams bask in the sunlight, which sounded far more depressing than "watching the Sue make a prat of herself".

Night came down suddenly.

Vila clutched at her head and gave a quiet moan. She _hated_ when night did that.

From the beach came the sound of weeping, and Aurelia traipsed gracefully back up towards the shoreline. "I must tell him," Aurelia said to the moody darkness. "He will hate me, and Elizabeth will want to hurt me – and I _hate_ when people want to hurt me!" she whined, then went on graciously, "but it must be done. He must know of my love for him."

She lay herself down on the beach, close enough to the sea for her angst purposes but, unfortunately, far enough from said sea that she wouldn't get washed away with the tide in the morning, and cried herself to sleep.

Vila slumped over next to the tree and closed her eyes. One thing about the Caribbean, the nights were so warm and relaxing…and this Sue had even gotten rid of the insects and mosquitos…it was so easy just to fall right asle…

"Vila!" Gudrun hissed, looming over her suddenly. Vila squawked and sat up.

Unfortunately, Gudrun was a very short person. This meant that looming over someone was more difficult for her than it was for most people, and she wasn't able to loom very high. Vila was also slightly tall, even when sitting. The combination of these facts and Vila's sitting up resulted in lots of pain for both parties and some muffled almost-curses on Vila's part.

"She ruined Elizabeth, you know," Gudrun said once the pain had faded enough to allow conversation. "She made her all _different_. I didn't even do that, you know."

"You didn't even touch on Elizabeth," Vila replied irritably. "You ignored her completely."

"But I didn't, you know, _ruin_her," Gudrun protested. She sat down a few feet from Vila and eyed the Sue. "I don't like that girl so much now, you know. I rather liked Elizabeth."

"Don't say 'liked' like that," Vila said, feeling strangely horrified. "You make it sound as though she's dead."

Gudrun set her hat on the ground for use as a pillow and laid her wand down beside her. "You can, you know, put her back to normal, can't you? Elizabeth?"

"Of course I can."

"And Will? You can, you know, make him right again?"

"Of course." Vila's stomach twisted, and she added, "It's sort of my life."

"Mine too, I suppose. You know, _now_." Gudrun gave Vila a relieved sort of smile and yawned. "Well, goodnight, then."

And with that, she fell silent. Vila lay awake for a few more minutes, because it's always difficult to fall asleep again after you've been _nearly_ asleep and then rudely awakened, and there are few awakenings ruder than Gudrun Quenby suddenly looming over you with a wand in her hand, and it's hardly easy to fall asleep when you're on a beach with waves crashing and making all sorts of noise, anyway.

In any event, however, the roar of the waves faded and the lull of the stars and wind in the sails – sorry, trees – cast their spell, and Vila's eyes shut in a slumber that wasn't quite blissful, but was peaceful enough.

----------

The dawn was like the dawn of Paradise, although none of those on the beach were awake to see it.

A few hours later, Vila's dreams faded into wakefulness. She sat up slowly, eyeing the beach. Gudrun and, some distance away, Aurelia were both still asleep, Aurelia giving little soft sighs every so often and Gudrun snoring faintly into her hat. It looked rather like there'd been an anachronistic kegger on the beach the night before, and the three of them were the only remaining evidence.

Vila didn't make that analogy, however. Vila tended to not think like that.

Aurelia stirred, giving another little sigh and sitting up. She glanced around vaguely, then sighed again and put her hands to her face. "My poor papa, he must be worried sick," she murmured to herself. "Ever since my mother died in childbirth, he's been so very protective, and I _do_ hate worrying him." She sniffed a bit and stood up, gazing down at the water. "He is the only one I have told of my love," she whispered, then continued more confidently "But that shall no longer be so! Today, I shall tell my beloved Will of my everlasting love for him! I shall sing it to him," she added thoughtfully.

The voice – yes, that voice – snarled softly in the back of Vila's mind.

Aurelia stood gazing at the waves for a few more minutes. At long last, she turned and began flitting away down the beach. "Farewell, kind ocean!" she called as she did so. "If he rejects me, your depths will be my…" she shed a few expert tears "resting place!"

Vila watched her go, torn between being horrified and …being horrified. "What…?" she breathed, still staring after the Sue.

_She's going to drown herself, Miss Borcka,_ the voice said boredly. _Of course, she has no idea that we're planning to kill her, does she? I meant Canonize,_ it added hurriedly as Vila blanched. _Canonize her. Rouse Miss Quenby, Miss Borcka, we – well, you – have got a job to do._

----------

They encountered Aurelia again in the crowded marketplace near the center of town. For a crowded marketplace, it was disturbingly clean and pretty, and Vila had to forcibly pull Gudrun away from a stall of mangos, which Gudrun confessed to be her favorite food. Aurelia was drifting through the crowd, singing sweetly and attracting all sorts of attention.

"_And there is someone belonging to someone  
And I got no one belonging to me  
I live in a world where the face of an angel  
Is all that a fool can see!_"

Vila dragged Gudrun through the crowd, her palms sweating in that familiar way that meant it was almost time.

"Miss Swann!" Aurelia said suddenly, stopping. The two Mediums stopped as well, Vila ducking behind a convenient nearby stall and pulling Gudrun with her.

"Ah, Miss Mietta," Elizabeth said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. "How… _lovely_ it is to see you, dear."

The Mediums stuck their heads carefully around the edge of their hiding place to watch. Aurelia and Elizabeth were less than three feet away and Will was standing just behind Elizabeth, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"Oh, you look so wonderful this morning, Miss Swann," Aurelia fawned, smiling sweetly at Elizabeth.

"I wish I could say the same," Elizabeth replied snidely.

Aurelia gasped and her eyes filled with tears. "Why do you hate me, Elizabeth?" she cried, stepping forward to take Elizabeth's hands into hers. "I have only ever tried to be kind to you! Why must you be so cruel?"

"She spends half her time _crying_," Vila muttered to Gudrun with uncharacteristic scorn.

"Look at Will's _eyes_," Gudrun replied in an undertone, sounding disturbed. "They're so, you know, _blank_…"

Vila swallowed hard as she looked at Will, who did indeed resemble a sort of zombie. "You get used to it," she whispered back.

"Come on, Will," Elizabeth was saying, pulling her hands distastefully from Aurelia's grasp. "We should be getting back to the house." She turned and flounced away, holding her skirts above the nonexistent dirt.

"Will!" Aurelia cried, as Will turned regretfully away from her. "Stay, Will! I have – I must – " Seemingly reaching her limit of coherent speech, she burst into glorious song.

"_I've been here all your life watching your crying game  
You were the heaven in my lonely world  
And_ she_ was your sun and your rain  
I was losing you before I ever held you tight  
Before you ever held me in your arms  
And I won't make you blue  
And maybe an everlasting love will do!_ "

Will turned back, seemingly enchanted by Aurelia's wondrous voice, and gazed at his beautiful best friend with sheer love in his eyes as the Sue began on the chorus.

"_Ah, we got an everlasting love  
So tall, so wide, so high above the rumble of thunder down below_"

"Now!" Vila hissed, darting forward through the crowd. Elizabeth, who was standing behind Will tugging ineffectually on his arm, met Vila's eyes suddenly. The Medium was taken aback by the look of sheer horror that showed on Elizabeth's face for a split second before she was whisked back into her traditional Sue-fic expression of displeasure.

"Come on, Will!" Elizabeth shrieked. "Don't listen to her, you love _me_, Will!"

"_Take me out of the cold  
Give me what I've hungered for  
If it's the pleasure of taking my heart that you need  
Then it only makes me love you more!_" Aurelia sang, her voice swelling with her efforts.

Vila opened the bottle of Canon, her head pounding, and slipped through the crowd that had gathered around Aurelia, Will, and Elizabeth. Gudrun skipped covertly after her.

Will put his arms around Aurelia's tiny waist, pulling the Sue close as she continued to sing, more softly now. Elizabeth burst into furious tears.

"_I was yours before the stars were born and you were mine  
I could have saved you all the pain you knew  
And I won't make you cry  
And maybe an everlasting love can try…_"

"Hurry up!" Gudrun hissed at Vila, tugging on the other Medium's arm. Vila poured some Canon into her hand and slid closer, her heart beating fast as she reached towards Aurelia.

"_It's your love I need, it's the only show  
And if you want an everlasting dream  
Can take us anywhere the tears are yesterday  
We killed the pain, we blew away the memories of the tears we cried  
And an everlasting love will never d—_"

Aurelia was cut off suddenly as Vila stuck out a Canon-coated hand and grabbed her by the arm, spinning her around and out of Will's embrace. "Hey, what – " the Sue began, looking faintly put out, but then the Canon began to take effect. Her hair turned brown, her skin freckled, and her eyes turned gray as she lost a good deal of weight in her bosom and gained a healthy amount in other places. Her brown skirt and pink corset were replaced by sweatpants and a T-shirt with some pseudo-clever fangirl saying on it.

"What?" the girl asked, glaring at the Mediums. "So I like Orlando Bloom, yeah? Is that a _crime_?"

"It should be, you know," Gudrun said sagely.

Vila stuck out a hand as the girl began to fade into the fandomverse. "Vila Borcka…and Gudrun Quenby…Happy Mediums," she said hurriedly. "And you are?"

"Bloom-n-BGz3000," the girl snapped, even managing to pronounce the dashes. "And I…" Her last words were lost as she was whisked away into the fandomverse, still talking.

Around Vila and Gudrun, Port Royal had reclaimed a healthy amount of its grime, and the crowd had immediately dispersed. Only Will and Elizabeth still stood where they had been. Suddenly Elizabeth moved forward and pulled the two Mediums together in a brief hug.

"Thank you," she said kindly, pulling away and taking Will's hand.

"You're welcome," Gudrun said cheerfully, and Vila raised her hand in a faint wave as they felt the tendrils of the fandomverse wrap around them and pull them away.

----------

The voice was considerate enough to go slowly on the way back to Vila's apartment, and even asked – albeit in a perfunctory sort of tone – how Vila's head was feeling. The Mediums were now seated on their comfortable seat of nothingness, watching the fandomverse go by in a silence that was almost companionable.

Or it would have been silence, if Vila hadn't become aware of Gudrun saying something faintly under her breath. "What was that?" she asked, wondering if she really wanted to know. Gudrun raised her voice.

"_It's just your jive talkin'  
You're telling me lies, yeah..._"

Vila sat for a moment, staring at her fellow Medium im disbelief, then suddenly felt a rare smile break across her indescribably plain features as she began to sing along to what may well become the theme song of the Happy Medium:

"_Jive talkin'  
You wear a disguise  
Jive talkin'  
So misunderstood, yeah  
Jive talkin'  
You're really no good!_ "

**Author's Note:** Ah, my poor Brothers Gibb. I _am_ sorry. And I really, _really_ hated this Sue. A lot. Hated her a _lot_.


	8. Don't Fight the Darkness

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** This chapter is not intended to show disrespect towards those real-life persons who resemble this particularly horrible kind of Sue. I'm not disrespecting you. I'm just mocking you. In a nice(ish) way. I recognize that some of readers might lead the sort of life this Sue pretends to be a) cool and b) non-conformist enough to lead, and to you guys I say – I'm sorry. You all probably rock harder than I do. And if I met you in real life, I'd be scared of you. (Also, I really do love _Nightmare Before Christmas_. In fact, I listened to it as I wrote this.) Peace, man.

This chapter has been waiting a good long while to be posted, but my computer has been infested by spyware/adware that, for a long time, was redirecting my Internet browser to "http/ whenever I tried to use the Intarweb and then, once it realized that I just wasn't trying anymore, stopped letting my Internet connection work at all. And this was _despite_ the fact that I have more anti-spyware programs on this computer than I probably need.

There's a small voice at the back of my mind telling me that if I'd just up and gotten Firefox, _none of this would have happened_.

So, in conclusion, I don't know when this will be posted. I either have to get my brother to fix it, hire an actual computer technician to fix it, or try and fix it myself (and possibly singe my eyebrows off). Sorry.

Anyway, I have a **brand new story** up called "Evolution of a Swashbuckler" that I'd like all of you guys to check out – it's a non-parody, so I'd like to hear what you all think of my non-parodying self.

Also, to **evenstar of the undyinglands:** Sure, go ahead, use Gudrun. Just hook me up with a little credit, 'kay?

Beyond that? All I have to say is: tenebrous is the coolest word _ever_.

**DISCLAIMER:** Not mine, never will be. 's far as I know.

--------

**The Happy Medium**

**By: Peacenik**

--------

There was something written on the wall of Vila Borcka's apartment.

It was in very nice handwriting, quite neat and tidy with little block letters. Vila took a moment to admire the handwriting before reading the actual words. Her own handwriting was messy and scrawly and hard to read, nothing like this precise, tidy sort of lettering.

Then she went on to read the words:

"_Life is totally consuming me,_

_Let the darkness take its share._

_Sorrow and blood plod through the sea_

_Like a slow mistreated mare._"

"The _hell_?" Vila would have said, if she had been able to speak. Gudrun came through the door and stopped short, examining the writing with interest.

"Something like this happened at my school, once, you know," was all she said, before skipping off to do whatever it was Gudrun did when nobody was paying attention. Vila continued to stare at the words. There was a cough in the back of her mind.

_Apologies, Miss Borcka, but I did think it best if you knew what you were getting into._

"What am I getting into?" Vila asked faintly.

The voice sounded surprised. _This was written by our – your – next assignment, Miss Borcka. Pleasant, isn't it?_

"She's…" Vila stared at the words some more, their strangely invasive darkness slowly pervading her mind. "Oh, _please_, no."

_I _am_ sorry_, said the voice, not sounding sorry in the least. _It should be interesting, however, should it not? Call your assistant, this will be good experience for her._

"For her to do _what_?" Vila grumbled, but called for Gudrun anyway. The younger Medium came skipping in from the living room.

"Have we got another assignment, then?" she asked brightly. "I thought I heard the voice's voice in here."

Vila stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out exactly how _that_ worked, but forgot about it as she felt herself being dragged into the fandomverse, and the familiar motion sickness set in.

--------

Leila Adriana Tenebrous applied her black lipstick liberally, eyeing herself in the mirror with some satisfaction as she did so. Her long black hair with red, purple, and green highlights hung to her waist, her soulful but cold dark eyes were outlined in more black eyeliner than was probably healthy, and her smooth skin was as white as paper.

Her outfit, of course, had come entirely from Hot Topic. It was all black, with an abundance of buckles and spikes and leather, and she looked _good_ in it. Leila smirked at herself in the mirror. Her parents had been horrified when she had started listening to Evanescence and Marilyn Manson, not to mention _dressing_ like someone who listened to Evanescence and Marilyn Manson, but Leila had recognized it for what it truly was – an awakening. She wasn't made to be one of those girls who dressed in all pink and listened to Hilary Duff and swooned over Orlando Bloom and Johnny Depp.

Well, maybe…Leila looked around furtively before pulling a picture of Orlando Bloom from her back pocket and kissing it. Maybe that last one wasn't so true. But she _certainly_ didn't listen to Hilary Duff, and she was _never_ going to wear pink. _Ever_. It was her _enemy_.

If only she knew how many teen girls said that and thought it meant something.

"Leila!" screeched her stupid blonde mother, and Leila shoved her picture of Orlando back into her pocket as her mother came bustling into her room, sniffing with disgust at the posters of vampires and zombies on her walls. "Leila, your stepfather and I are going shopping."

"You're _always_ shopping," Leila drawled, admiring her black fingernails. "There is _way_ more to life than shopping, you know."

"Is there?" Leila's mother turned a blank stare on her. "Well, anyway, that's where we're going. Goodbye." And she left.

Leila waited until she heard the car pull out of the driveway before pulling out her journal and clicking open a ballpoint pen. She waited a moment for the familiar inspiration to strike her.

"_I am deep and lost forever,_

_My pain will not end ever._

_Just leave me alone_

_You blonde-helmeted crone._"

Sitting back, she admired her work. _Poe himself couldn't do better_, she thought. Not that Leila would know, because she'd never actually _read_ any of Edgar Allen Poe's works, but she figured that she wouldn't find anything half as good as that if she happened to have to read some Poe for school someday. Or something.

Flinging her journal aside, she sat down at her computer and pulled up one of her many _Pirates of the Caribbean_ screenshots. It was her favorite one, of Johnny and Orlando standing next to each other (or, to be more exact, Jack Sparrow and Will Turner standing next to each other, but whatever), and she sighed as she gazed at both the gorgeous faces. Then she pulled her journal out again and began scribbling.

"_Oh why can't I see you,_

_You are so far away._

_The darkness is beneath you,_

_I'm going to get you someday._"

A bit stalker-ish, Leila decided in a rare moment of clarity, but still goo- what was _that_?

_That_ happened to be the inevitable snapping of the proverbial ropes and ties, made up of Canon, that held the _Pirates of the Caribbean_ world together, but Leila was unaware of that small fact. All she heard was a thud, and then there was blackness.

She awoke, still clutching her journal, in a different world entirely.

--------

Vila and Gudrun had landed a few minutes before the Sue, and Gudrun had had to pull Vila out of the way as Leila came hurtling out of the sky and landed on her back. Now the two Mediums were standing over her, heads cocked to one side as they examined their target.

She was an alarming-looking creature – certainly very pretty, as they all were, but dressed in more spikes and buckles and general paraphernalia than was probably necessary. Vila noted her _Nightmare Before Christmas_ sweatshirt with a sinking feeling in her stomach. Of course. This Sue was one of _those_ Sues, those ones she only heard about from the voice sometimes when it was in a good mood to mock other worlds and their Sue problems, particularly those of the _Lord of the Rings_ fandom…

"She looks, you know, _dangerous_," Gudrun declared, interrupting Vila's thoughts. Vila cleared her throat.

"At least she doesn't look like the sort of person Will would be interested in," she said out loud. "Or Jack, or Norrington."

"Jack, you know, he might," Gudrun said thoughtfully. "He always ends up with the, you know, _bizarre_ ones, doesn't he?"

_They're all bizarre_, the voice interjected.

"And how would _you_ know about who Jack always ends up with?" Vila said to Gudrun, somewhat heatedly. "You've only done this twice now. This is _my_ eighth chapter. Mission." She paused, confused.

Gudrun started to reply, but then Leila stirred. Both Mediums backed away reflexively as she sat up, shaking her head.

"Where the hell _am_ I?" she screamed with the voice of a headbanger, and leapt to her feet. She was, in fact, on the empty deck of the _Black Pearl_, which was sailing towards Port Royal and making very good time of it, at that. But, of course, Leila didn't know this.

A few pirates emerged from the foggy, mysterious, rarely-touched-upon-in-Suefic area known as 'belowdecks.' "Who are you, Miss?" one of them asked in surprisingly good English.

Leila stared at him. "Leila Tenebrous," she said. "Where the beeping hell am I? What is this, some kind of re-enactment group?"

"They always say that," Vila whispered to Gudrun, both of them hiding behind the staircase that led to the helm. "They _always_ think it's a re-enactment group."

"Not a whatever-you-said, Miss Tenebrous," the pirate said pleasantly. "You're aboard the _Black Pearl_, and we should be in Port Royal in maybe a day or two – "

"The beeping _what_? I'm aboard the beeping _what_?" Leila screamed, stomping her feet and making the chains on her trousers rattle. "This doesn't make sense! This is fictional! You know, like, like…" She struggled for words. "Like, a _story_!"

"This isn't a story, Miss Tenebrous," another pirate joined in. All of them were still huddling near the doorway that led belowdecks, none of them wanting to get too close to her and her spikes. Leila glared at them all.

"Get me off this beeping ship," she said.

"No can do, lass," came the distinctively sexy, luscious, alluring, provocative…ahem. Came the voice of Captain Jack Sparrow. The man emerged shortly after the voice, swaying a bit and stopping short when he saw Leila.

It was amazing, the transformation that came over him. His eyes took on a glazed sort of look, he swayed more exaggeratedly, and most of his brain began melting (although that part of the transformation wasn't as visible as the rest of it). Obviously, Jack's puddle of brain slurred, this girl was no one to be trifled with.

"Oh, my God," the girl said. "You're Johnny Depp, aren't you? Oh, my God. And you probably expect me to be all, like, all _over_ you, don't you?" She rolled her eyes and turned away.

"I'm afraid I don't know this 'Johnny Depp' friend of yers," said Jack. "But perhaps ye can tell me about him over rum in me cabin? Savvy?" he added reflexively. "An' I wouldn't mind if ye were all over me, lass," he continued, winking.

"Not everyone thinks you're so hot," Leila snapped, but obviously she wasn't one of the ones who didn't think that. Or something. In any event, she made her way over to the door of the cabin, smirking as the crew scuttled fearfully out of her way.

The Mediums exchanged glances. Vila's teeth were gritted; Gudrun looked fairly nonplussed (for Gudrun, that is).

As Leila disappeared belowdecks with the captain, the crew shook themselves out of their Sue-induced fear and began doing normal pirate things, like sailing the ship and swabbing the deck. Obviously, this Sue wasn't powerful enough to keep them all under her spell indefinitely; but she was still _annoying_.

"We'd better follow her," Vila said, dragging Gudrun out from under the helm. None of the busy pirates noticed the two half-invisible girls creeping across the deck towards the captain's cabin.

--------

Inside the cabin, Leila was slouching in typical Angsty Teenager Fashion™ in one of Jack's chairs, while the captain himself slumped on the bed and looked alluring.

"So you're from another world, lass?" he said, taking a gulp of rum.

"No," Leila said, rolling her eyes. "Another _time_, dude."

Jack nodded, surveying her. "An', if ye don't mind me askin', what's with all the black an'…chains…an' such that ye wear?"

"Well, I'm a Goth," Leila said, looking surprised. "What, would you rather have me wearing…ugh…little _pink_ frilly dresses?"  
"I'm certain ye'd look good in whatever ye chose to wear, lass," Jack assured her, grinning lasciviously. Leila rolled her eyes again.

"Look, when are we going to be in Port Royal?" she said, obviously not having listened to the pirate who had answered that question for her about ten minutes ago.

"Ah, within a day 'r two, lass. Ye're that impatient ta be off me ship?" Jack said, leaning forward.

"_Yes_," Leila snapped. "It's kind of, like, an ugly ship. I thought it would be scarier. It'd be so much _cooler_ if it were scarier." Her eyes gleamed with a strange and alarming light.

For some reason, Jack didn't take offense at this blasphemy, but seemed anxious for the girl's good opinion. "Well, we've only just got it back from Barbossa," he said hastily.

"And _anyway_, once I'm in Port Royal I can figure out a way home, right?" said Leila. "This is, like, _so_ boring. I haven't got my music or…wait!" She dug suddenly in the pocket of her pants, emerging triumphantly with a Discman. "And, dude! I still have my Evanescence CD!" She immediately put the headphones on over her ears and turned the Discman on, singing out loud. Jack stared at her, completely flummoxed.

"Wake me up inside! Wake me up inside! Call my name and save me from the dark!" Leila sang shrilly. Jack stood and backed away.

"I'll just get back to mannin' the helm, then," he said, as Leila continued to ignore him. And he beat a hasty retreat for the door, the words to her song following him out onto the deck.

"Bid my blood to run before I come undone! Save me from the nothing I've become!" Leila shrieked. Pressed against the cabin window, both Mediums winced.

"At least the last one, you know, had a _good_ voice," Gudrun murmured.

"At least the last one sang decent music," Vila replied quietly. They looked at each other.

"We can't Canonize her until she actually disrupts the Canon," Vila said with some amount of disappointment. "And she hasn't done that yet."

Gudrun said something under her breath that sounded like "_Discman_, you know" and turned away from the window in something very much resembling disgust. Inside the cabin, Leila continued to sing, if it could really be called singing.

Time passed in this way, with Leila screeching out the lyrics to several Evanescence songs and, when Jack returned to his cabin for a fortifying shot of rum, chattering with obviously fake sullenness about vampires, blood, death, hell, and Satan, in that order. Where real Jack would have left the cabin immediately and called for someone to tie the girl down, however, this Jack sat and listened in wonderment.

_'ow did such a beautiful, young lass get _so_ jaded?_ he wondered in a stupid and contrived manner. _'ow does such a pretty girl know _so much_ about such _dark things

--------

Outside the cabin, the Mediums had managed to find bits of rag with which to plug their ears, which was all right as long as they didn't think too hard about where the rag had probably been (this was a pirate ship, after all), and were dozing easily. Night came and went, and they awoke the next morning with Port Royal in view.

Leila came out of the cabin and stood at the rail. "It's so _bright_," she complained. "I'd like it better if it were nighttime again. Then those stupid rocks wouldn't be shining like that. It hurts my beeping eyes."

"My apologies, lass, but we got 'ere as fast as we could," Jack said politely, coming to stand beside her.

"Whatever," Leila said with a flip of her hand. "You remember what I said about vampires, though? I'm like one of them. I like the night better. Isn't that _weird_?" she added with relish.

The Mediums, safely half-visible, exchanged glances of mingled annoyance and horror.

The _Pearl_ put into Port Royal without too much bother, although it did seem a bit strange that none of the ubiquitous Naval officers seemed to notice the large dark pirate ship docking in their midst. Leila stood uselessly by the whole time, occasionally saying things like "I had _so_ better be able to get home from here" and "God, this place _better_ not be as boring as it seemed in the movie" and "I _so_ wish I had my Marilyn Manson CD right now." At this point, it became clear that even Lovestruck!Jack wasn't paying attention to her, having captainy things to do, and she took sulky refuge in her Evanescence again.

"God, that took forever!" Leila said when they were finally able to step onto the dock. "Seriously, I listened to 'My Immortal' like eight times in the time that took."

"I am sorry, Miss Leila," Jack said with an air of smarminess, helping her off the ship. "I suppose ye'd like to go see the Turners now?"

"Duh," Leila said, rolling her eyes. "I'm so hoping they can help me find a way to leave this stupid time period. I'm running out of beeping eyeliner."

"Ye can use some of me kohl, lass," Jack said hopefully, wrapping a companionable arm around Leila's deathly (but attractively) pale shoulders.

The Mediums followed carefully as the pair made their way along the streets of Port Royal, drawing some odd stares. It was no surprise; Leila was a completely anachronistic Faux-Goth, whereas Jack…was Jack.

"There's the governor's mansion, lass," Jack said after a time, motioning at the mansion on the hill. It looked rather more Gothic, and by that I mean the style of architecture, than it did in the movie. Leila brightened considerably.

"Thanks for helping me," she said with unexpected sweetness, turning to Jack and giving him a hug. "Seriously, I'm totally going to miss you. That'd be so _cool_ if you lived in my time period."

"I'm sure it would, lass," Jack said, trying (and failing) not to show how much the hug had affected him. They continued on their way and, from the snatches of conversation the Mediums were able to pick up while staying at a safe distance, it seemed that Leila was now relating the entire plot of an Anne Rice novel to Jack.

"I can just, you know, _smell_ the romance," Gudrun said breezily. Vila eyed her warily, unable to tell if she was being facetious or not, then decided it didn't really matter as it was just Gudrun anyway.

In any event, they soon reached the doors of the mansion. Jack knocked, grinning broadly as several gardeners who had happened to be puttering nearby ran screaming around the corner of the house as they caught sight of Leila. Leila laughed evilly.

The door was opened by a butler, but soon usurped by Elizabeth, who fairly leapt out of the house and into Jack's arms. "Jack, it's so _good_ to _see_ you!" she squealed, hugging him tightly. "We've _missed_ you so _much_!" Leila rolled her eyes visibly.

"What's she got to be annoyed about?" Vila grumbled. "She's the one who _made_ Elizabeth this way." But Gudrun didn't answer, merely pulled her forward as Elizabeth dragged Jack into the house.

Inside was far more frilly and pretty than anyone remembered it. "I like what you've done with the place," Jack said with obvious sarcasm, not seeming to mind that his syntax had just managed to outlive him by a few centuries. Leila rolled her eyes again.

"Ugh, it's _pink_," she groaned. "I _hate_ pink. Seriously, you have no idea. Pink and flowers and stuff? It all makes me _puke_. It's so stupid. That's why I painted my room black. And that's why I wear all black. It's, like, a statement, you know? My lifestyle is a statement. I may be young, but I am, like, _so_ sick of it all," she finished, looking particularly proud of those last few lines.

There was silence for a moment, in which Jack gazed at Leila adoringly. Then, "_Who_ are _you_?" Elizabeth demanded, a look of disgust on her face.

"Leila Adriana Tenebrous," Leila snapped, and Elizabeth leapt back, looking disgruntled and a bit frightened. "And don't _talk_ to me like that!" she added, suddenly sounding whiny.

"Aye, _Mrs. Turner_, don't ye _talk_ to her like that!" Jack echoed. Elizabeth stared at them both in contrived fear.

"I'm here because this is _so not_ my time period, and I need to find a way home," Leila said suddenly, launching into exposition without warning. "Like, I'm from the 20th century, right? Or 21st, whatever. Anyway, so yesterday I just woke up on the deck of the _Black Pearl_, and all of these stupid pirates were around looking like they were going to rape me."

Vila, safely hidden in a dark corner, made a movement rather like she was going to leap for Leila's throat. Gudrun pulled her back just in time.

"But then I woke up and _totally_ kicked all their stupid pirate asses, so they're all afraid of me now. _Anyway_," Leila continued, flipping her long multi-colored hair in a dangerously _Mean Girls_-esque manner, "so Jack and I talked for a long time," she looked fondly at Jack, "and I thought it might be best if we, like, came here to find you and Will, because maybe you'd be able to help us think of a way for me to get home, right? And, seriously, where _is_ Will?" she asked suddenly.

"He's upstairs," Elizabeth said faintly. Fortunately, there weren't enough words in the sentence for her speech to be obnoxiousified with italics.

"Oh, good. Anyway, you're _going_ to help me get home. I hate this time period – there's no decent music, and everyone's so _happy_ all the time. I gave up on happiness years ago," she went on moodily. "It's all so pointless. We're all just going to die _anyway_. That's why I don't bother trying to make myself look pretty and catch a husband the way _you_ do. _I've_ come to realize that none of it, like, _means_ anything." She looked smugly between Jack and Elizabeth, the former of whom was staring at her with masked love and agreement in his eyes and the latter of whom was looking ashamed and horrified.

"Well, Miss Tenebrous, I _suppose_ we'd better have a _servant_ show you upstairs to your _room_," Elizabeth said after a few minutes. "It's getting _dark_, you know. _Unless_ you have _other_ _lodgings_?" she asked hopefully.

"Are you _stupid_?" Leila snapped. "Like Jack Sparrow can just walk into an inn and book a room? _Seriously_."

"He was certainly parading through the streets with _you_ easily enough," Vila muttered.

"Aye, Mrs. Turner, I think marriage may have dulled your brain," Jack laughed, as a servant appeared to escort him and Leila up the winding staircase. Elizabeth flushed hotly and went off to do whatever it was Canon characters did when they weren't being manipulated by Sues.

Gudrun and Vila waited for the sound of footsteps to cease before climbing the stairs after Jack and Leila. "She's really, you know, irritating," Gudrun remarked, not seeming to notice the irony in this statement.

"I think she's trying to be subtle," Vila said, looking in the direction Elizabeth had gone. "What with that hug Elizabeth gave Jack, and Will being absent, and Elizabeth blushing when Jack spoke to her? I think she's trying to make Elizabeth into something _jealous_."

"And she keeps, you know, saying all the wrong things," Gudrun went on. "I don't know why Jack likes her."  
"He doesn't," Vila said quietly as they reached the hallway of the second floor. They could hear Leila a few doors down, having the requisite argument with the servants over her choice of dress. "Not really. Or he shouldn't, anyway, as she's a _Sue_. But you'd better go watch him, anyway," she added over her shoulder as she headed down the hall in front of Gudrun. "I'll keep an eye on Leila."

The door to Leila's room was ajar, and Vila slipped in easily and hid herself in the wardrobe as the maids went squirreling out, weeping softly and holding Leila's grungy, chain-decorated clothes away from them at arms' length. The Sue was standing at the open window, gazing bleakly out over the Caribbean night, a beautiful lacy nightgown (of the sort Will and Elizabeth would never be able to afford) billowing softly around her dark and lovely form, an expression of disgust on her face. "I thought I couldn't ever, like, feel this way," she said to the empty (as far as she knew) room. "I'm not supposed to have, like, _feelings_! And yet…I think I love him." She sighed melodramatically. "Just when I thought I was, like, _totally_ jaded, I have to fall in love. Plus he's not even from my _time_ period! It isn't _fair_."

But it was, apparently, inspiring. Leila threw herself onto her bed and pulled her notebook and pencil out of her backpack.

_"I wish these words were written in blood,_

_I wouldn't want to drown myself in mud._

_I love you, I love you, why must I love you?_

_Was it not bad enough I had a crush on you?_

_Why do you torment me this way?_

_When will I be able to finally say,_

_I've beaten this love, I've killed it off,_

_Because I know you're going to laugh and scoff."_

She sat back, staring at her words. "Whoa. Dark," she said after a moment, and then "I mean, that's dark even for _me_." She grinned like Jack Skellington on acid. "I am getting so _good_!"

And, reveling in her own brilliance, she rolled over and went immediately to sleep.

--------

Down the hall, Jack was pacing back and forth, muttering to himself. Gudrun entered silently and hid herself in the shadows.

"Such a beautiful lass," Jack said with self-loathing. "And so intelligent! I swear, she understands more of the world than I ever will. How foolish and…pointless my life was 'fore she came along! I'd give up me ship for her!" He stopped abruptly, a frown on his face. "I'm a bloody pirate! I don't fall in love!"

"Yes, you know, _remember_ that," Gudrun breathed as encouragement, but fortunately (or unfortunately) Jack didn't hear her.

"Ah, well," he said finally to himself, flopping onto the bed. "Best sleep on it, eh mate?" And he dropped immediately off to sleep.

Gudrun watched for a time, until it became apparent that nothing else was going to happen that night, at which point she left again to find Vila.

The hallway was dark and quiet, the only noise being the murmur of the servants finishing their chores downstairs as well as some interesting sounds coming from what Gudrun assumed to be Will and Elizabeth's room. Sounds like snoring. _Those_ kinds of sounds.

"Gudrun!" a voice hissed suddenly, and Gudrun felt rather than saw Vila slip out of the room and come stand before her. "Gudrun, she's fallen in _love_ with him. Though she's trying to pretend to be in denial."

"Yes, and he's fallen in love with her as well, you know," Gudrun said with remorse. "I couldn't stop him."

Vila ran a hand through her hair with irritation. "We weren't _supposed_ to be able to stop them," she said ruefully. "But does making Jack fall in love count as disruptive?" _Because what's to say Jack hasn't fallen in love before?_ her inner Sue added slyly.

"He said he'd, you know, give up his ship for her," Gudrun mentioned with forced casualness. Vila stared at her.

"For_ her_? She's one of the most annoying, poorly-done Sues we've ever – never mind." Vila couldn't keep a small grin from sliding over her face. "I suppose that means she's ruined Canon, doesn't it? Jack would _never_ give up his ship, especially not for a girl."

_But he hasn't given up his ship,_ her inner Sue said quietly. _He's only said he would._

"So we can, you know, get rid of her now?" Gudrun said in a whisper that was, fortunately, loud enough to drown out Vila's inner Sue but quiet enough to keep from waking anyone.

"I suppose we could, but – "

Before either of them could say anything else, daybreak was upon them and servants were bustling around the hallways. The Mediums ducked quickly back into Leila's room, throwing themselves onto the wardrobe and having a hurried, silent scuffle as both attempted to make themselves at least somewhat comfortable amid the clothes. Scarcely a second later, a maid came charging into the room behind them.

"Miss Tenebrous, you need to wake and dress!" she trilled, throwing the covers off of the (disgustingly shapely) form on the bed. Leila groaned and put a hand over her eyes.

"God, it's so freakin' _bright_ here! _I hate sunlight_!" The last three words were screamed. The maid looked at her in horror as she moved towards the wardrobe.

_Towards the wardrobe…_

"Vila, she's, you know, going to find us," Gudrun breathed, pushing her body as far back into the wardrobe as it would go.

"You need to learn to act more like a lady, Miss Tenebrous," the maid said, wrapping her fingers around the handle. Vila tried to hide, but found that Gudrun had taken up all the space in the back of the wardrobe.

"Good teamwork, Gudrun," she muttered under her breath and, to her surprise, felt a foot connect sharply with her ankle.

"And what would you like to wear this morning, Miss Tenebrous?" the maid asked docilely.

"Nothing _pink_," Leila said predictably, as the maid threw open the wardrobe.

"Well," the maid said, examining the gowns carefully and finally selecting a dark emerald one that would compliment the streaks in Leila's hair, "this is one of Mrs. Turner's old dresses, and I'm sure it won't take long for us to alter it to your size. You're a good deal more slender than she ever was, you know," she added cattily, shutting the wardrobe and leaving the two Mediums, one of whom was plainly visible, openmouthed with disbelief. "And we'll have to put your hair up, as well, we're having the Commodore for breakfast this morning–"

Despite her amazement, Vila could not help letting out an almost inaudible snort at that last sentence. Obviously, this author had never learned about the importance of proper phrasing.

" – and you'll want to look nice for him, won't you?" the maid continued kindly, holding the dress up to Leila's body and eyeing it critically. "This will look most beautiful, if we can just pull the waist in a bit smaller. I'll doubt you even need a corset," she beamed, hurrying out of the room. Leila watched her go with a sour frown on her face.

"Lass?" a voice said softly from the door, and Jack crept in quietly. "I've got to hurry before that maid comes back, but – oh, Miss Leila, ye look _beautiful_."

He was not wrong, which was what made it so annoying.

"Thanks," Leila said, looking (and sounding) oddly vulnerable. "You'd better, like, go back to your ship or something, they're having the Commodore for breakfast."

Vila snickered again in spite of herself.

"All right," Jack said tenderly. He took a deep breath. "I'm gonna miss ye, lass. Ye've taught me so much about life, and death, and everythin' in between—"

"Oh, _Jack_," Leila said, her eyes suddenly brimming with tears. "I'm going to miss you too. Thank you so much for bringing me here, it was, like, the greatest adventure of my _life_!"

"And love," Jack finished. "Ye've taught me about love." He tok another deep breath. "I love ye, Leila Adriana Tenebrous."

"And I love you, Captain Jack Sparrow," Leila said honestly. Jack grinned and took her in his arms –

"Excuse me."

The odd couple turned to find Vila stepping down from the wardrobe, with all the dignity of one who has been hiding among heavy dresses for the last ten minutes.

"You can't love each other, you know," Gudrun said conversationally, stepping out of the wardrobe after Vila. "It just doesn't, you know, _work_. You," she pointed at Jack, "aren't supposed to love anyone."

"I love Leila," Jack said with uncharacteristic defensiveness. Behind him, Leila's eyes narrowed.

"You are _not_ getting me without a fight," she said fiercely. Vila pulled the bottle of Canon out of her pocket.

"There's two of us and one of you _and_ you're not even supposed to exist," she said calmly, although her heartbeat had picked up and her hands were shaking slightly. Experienced Medium she may be, but Vila still hated fighting with the Sues. They always had Sooper Speshul Powers ™.

"I don't care," Leila said, as it was doubtful whether or not she actually listened to what Vila had said. "I'm going to win."

She lunged suddenly, pushing Vila backwards. Jack let out a shout and threw himself forward to protect his would-be lover as Vila fought back, though Vila's fighting was mostly defensive as Leila was apparently trying to pull out her hair. The bottle of Canon was sent flying and Gudrun, ducking out of the way of the battle, leapt after it.

"_What_ is _going on_!" Elizabeth screamed from the doorway. "_Who_ are _they_?" She pointed an anachronistically-well-manicured nail at the Mediums.

"They're seriously trying to kill me!" Leila shrieked, clawing at Vila's face. Vila ducked and headbutted Leila in the stomach. The Sue let out an "oof" and fell backwards onto the bed.

"You stay away from her!" Jack yelled, pushing himself between the Sue and the Medium. "You stay…away…" His voice trailed off and he suddenly looked very confused.

"What are you doing here, Jack?" Elizabeth said in a quiet, bewildered voice. Vila, still breathing hard, looked around Jack's body to the bed.

Leila had picked herself up and was fingering a red spot on her scalp. Something was oozing down her face that looked like see-through blood, but Vila suddenly realized that it must be the Canon.

And, indeed, Gudrun was standing on the other side of the bed, holding the empty bottle upside down over Leila's head and looking proud of herself.

"I just, you know, thought I ought to help," she said modestly.

"You did," Vila said faintly.

Jack vanished suddenly, and Elizabeth was gone from the door. The Sue on the bed melted slowly into a normal, if rather skinny, teenager in jeans and a black tank top.

"Oh, no, not you again," she muttered, running a hand through her green-tipped hair and looking miserable.

"Yes, me, sorry." Vila was hard-pressed to be sympathetic, particularly when she could feel scratches from the Sue's nails along her arms, and when her hair felt as though it had been pulled out in several places. "We've met before?"

"Dude, yes, you wrecked my friend's story," the girl said as she began to fade. "I'm IheartNorrie3095. Dallas, remember?"

"Ah. Yes. Dallas." Vila surveyed her. "You were a Punk last time I saw you."

"It didn't really suit me," IheartNorrie3095 said, almost gone now.

"I know," Vila answered, feeling the fandomverse clutch her around the waist.

"Goth doesn't suit you either, you know," Gudrun called as the two Mediums were pulled back the way they came.

--------

_You need to be more careful next time, Misses Borcka and Quenby. That maid almost saw you_, the voice said, sounding harried.

"Not me, I hid," Gudrun said proudly, and Vila found herself having to actively resist the urge to stick out her tongue.

_I shouldn't have had to use invisibility,_ the voice went on, as though Gudrun hadn't spoken. _You should know_ –

"We _do_ know," Vila cut in. "It was just a mistake, but look, we won, didn't we?" She suddenly realized that she'd interrupted the voice. "Sorry," she said quietly.

_Not at all, Miss Borcka._ The voice sounded surprised._ I suppose I do have a tendency to be rather a perfectionist._ It paused. _That does not, however, negate the fact that in the future, perfection – or as close as you humans can come to it – is what is required of my Mediums, now that you have proven yourselves equal to the task. Is that understood?_

"Yes," Vila said, then added "Sir."

_I am glad to hear it, Miss Borcka, because you have had your run of elementary Sues, and I believe you are about to meet your match._

Vila's heart clenched a little at these words. It was true, the last few Sues had been painfully easy – had the voice been saving the best for last? Was this – and oh, dear, it hurt to think it – was this next mission meant to be the final test, the one that would very probably finish her off?

Gudrun, however, gave a broad smile. "Begging your pardon, but I don't, you know, think we _have_ a match."

There was silence for a moment, and then the voice, amazingly, gave a slight chuckle.

_Perhaps you do not, Miss Quenby. Perhaps you do not._


	9. Sea Change, or Sued! Part 1

**Author's Note:** Just wanted to say, because I don't say it enough, how much I appreciate all the reviews, and how glad I am everyone's enjoying this. Honestly, when I wrote the first chapter, I never expected this sort of response. Thanks so much for reading, and hopefully laughing. And I promise I'll try and update more frequently from now on!

Also, there is a word for "speech patterns" and I believe it starts with a "c", but I cannot remember it for my life or find it ANYWHERE…if anyone knows the word I mean, can they _please_ let me know? I'm serious, this is the sort of thing that puts people in asylums. They just couldn't think of that _one word_…

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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**The Happy Medium**

**By: Peacenik**

---------

And they landed.

It was an oddly placid landing, on an oddly calm day, in the oddly quiet dock section of Port Royal. The mild breeze unique to Caribbean summers floated between the buildings, and Vila reached up to brush at a strand of hair, which had fallen gently into her eyes.

Her hair was getting long, she realized for no apparent reason. She'd have to start wearing it up to keep it out of her way…

"Where _is_ she?" Gudrun wanted to know.

Vila gave a quick glance around. For once, nothing seemed to be wrong. The buildings were covered in salt residue, the people were as plain as could be, and the streets were just as filthy as they should have been.

"Perhaps there's been a mistake," she said. "Perhaps we've been thrown into canon accidentally – "

She glanced down at Gudrun, only to find the other Medium staring up at her.

"What?" she demanded, mildly irritated.

"Oh, you know, it's nothing," Gudrun said, eyes back on the city. "Only your voice sounded different for a moment."

Vila shrugged and turned back to the scene in front of them. "Anyway," she said, "perhaps the voice's made a mistake."

_I do not make mistakes, Miss Borcka,_ the voice half-snarled suddenly. For some reason, Vila had almost been expecting it this time and merely flicked her eyes upward in the faintest hint of a roll, then realized –

Had she just _rolled her eyes at the voice?_ Had she gained a death wish since the last mission?

The voice, however, settled for dropping the Canon into her pocket with more force than necessary and left them alone after that. The two Mediums took their seats on a pair of upturned barrels, awaiting the Sues. Vila's nervousness seemed to have vanished, and instead she looked forward to the coming battle – because battles was inevitable with these bitches – almost as a sort of entertainment. It would be _fun_, she decided.

"There," Gudrun said suddenly, as a woman came out of the building nextdoor. Vila peered closer.

She was a young woman, perhaps in her late teens, and certainly very pretty, though the prettiness wasn't as overdone as it was on most of the other Sues. Her features were fine and delicate, as though her author had followed the Catherine Zeta-Jones model rather than the Jessica Simpson model. The girl's eyes were large and dark, her auburn hair was long and, though it didn't fall in sensuous ringlets, curled charmingly down her back. She was slender, but not overly tall, and her lips were more full than pouty.

"Are you sure?" Vila said quietly. "She might not be a Sue, she might just be pretty."

Gudrun gave her a disbelieving stare. "That's _her_, Vila," she said, and then added, "And stop, you know, doing that thing with your voice!"

"_What_ thing?"

"You sound like you're, you know, _singing_ every word! It's _annoying_!"

Vila shook her head, as much in annoyance as to get stray hair out of her eyes, and looked back at the girl. She was sweeping the front step of the building, singing softly to herself. Her voice was beautiful, but she was hardly the centuries-too-soon Beyoncé of the last songful mission.

"I'm not certain that's her," Vila muttered.

"Nerisse Eithne!" a melodious voice called, and another woman emerged. This one was only two or three years older than the first, and, despite the fact that this one's hair was several shades lighter, it was clear that they were sisters.

"Nerisse Eithne?" Gudrun said under her breath. "You can't even, you know, _pronounce_ that. It has to be her. After all, we haven't, you know, seen anyone else…" She gave a significant glance at the surrounding population, which was overall plain and disagreeable-looking.

Vila ignored her.

"I merely needed some air, Cordelie," the younger girl said, turning to face her sister guiltily. "The foulness of that place, it stifles me so."

"Oh, you and your artistic mind," Cordelie chided playfully. "Come now, Nerisse, we need your help within – there is a certain scoundrel who simply will not leave."

"I know that, Cordelie, he's our employer," Nerisse giggled. Her sister batted her lightly on the arm.

"Not Mr. Drivvers, Nerisse, I meant a _customer._ Perhaps your wondrous charm can persuade him to leave us alone. I shall never understand how you pull others under your spell so easily, how you make them love and trust you so within only a few minutes of acquaintance, but I shall never say that this gift is without its benefits..!"

"It is not a spell, Cordelie," Nerisse said gently. "I merely present the goodness within myself to people. It is as Mother taught me, is it not, before she…passed…"

Her sweet voice choked on the last word, and Cordelie put a soothing arm around her to lead her back inside. Gudrun turned to Vila.

"That, you know, _has_ to be her."

"Maybe not," Vila said uncomfortably. Gudrun leaned perilously close.

"Vila. We need to, you know, _obliterate them_," she insisted. "They have a tragic past, you know, and they're pretty, and the little one has a sweet voice, and everyone, you know,_ loves_ her—"

"You're only jealous," Vila snapped, before she knew what she was saying. Gudrun jerked back, uncharacteristic hurt flashing in her eyes before she shook the feeling off.

"Well, if you're not going to do anything, then I am, you know," she said. "Give me the Canon."

And she held out her hand.

Vila felt rage flare up inside her. She had the dim feeling that she ought to apologize for the jealousy comment, but Gudrun was being so _arrogant_ – she was stealing the spotlight and being so _irritating_ about it, as if Vila was just supposed to hand over her job, her _existence_, on a silver platter –

"No!" she laughed sardonically, sliding gracefully off the barrel and crossing her arms over her chest. "_I'm_ the real Medium here, you know that, it's _my job_ to Canonize the Sues, and I don't believe those are them!"

"Stop _singing_," Gudrun said angrily. Anger was a mostly foreign emotion to her, but she was unsurprised to find that it was quite satisfying.

Or it would have been, if it hadn't been directed at her only…friend?

"I'm not singing!"

"You _are_ singing, and stop, you know, playing with your hair like that, it's as irritating as anything – "

"_You're_ irritating as anything!" Vila burst out. "Honestly, you're little and you're strange and you say 'you know' after _every_thing, and you're calling _me _irritating?"

Gudrun took a step forward, her hands in fists at her sides. "If you're, you kn-" She stopped and took a breath. "If you're _going to be_ so stubborn about it, I might, you kn—" She shook her head in aberrant frustration. "_I might _just have to, you kn—" She closed her eyes and opened them again. "_I might just have to_ take it off you myself!"

"I would love to see you try, little one," Vila sneered. She'd never sneered before, and now regretted that fact. It was the sort of experience that no one ought to miss.

Gudrun took another step forward and gave her a light push. Vila snorted and gave the other Medium a rougher one, and suddenly—

Suddenly they were on the ground fighting, fists and hair and feet flying like mad. In the back of her mind, Vila was aware that the world around them had frozen in time, but she was too concentrated on fending off Gudrun to care much about that. _Whatever happens, the Canon can fix it_, she thought wildly, aiming a punch at Gudrun's stomach.

It was bizarre, how much being a Medium had, apparently, improved her fighting skills. The last time she'd fought with Gudrun, or Gudrun-as-a-Sue anyway, she'd only won by being vaguely clever, and that was if you could count it as winning at all. This time, it was proving easier than ever to match the little menace kick for kick.

Unfortunately, the little menace was fairly agile herself and, evidently, had very sharp teeth. This fact became clear to Vila when Gudrun sank them into her arm.

"Ow!" she yelled, flinging Gudrun off her and skittering backwards. "Savage!"

It was then that she realized that Gudrun was holding the Canon in one hand, her eyes glittering.

"_I_ am going to, you kn— " She blinked rapidly. "_I am going to_ go wait in that tavern, and when Jack Sparrow or Will Turner show up and, you kn— _and the inevitable_ romance happens, I am going to get rid of both those Sues. If you stop being such a _prat_, you can, you kn—" She gave a sort of growl in her throat. "_You can_ join me."

And with that, she turned on her heel and marched towards the building nextdoor, Canon in hand.

Vila sat on the ground for a few minutes more, chest heaving as she took assessment of what had just happened. They'd argued, and then they'd fought, and then Gudrun had gotten the Canon – but why had they argued in the first place? She ran a finger through her hair in frustration, hardly registering as she encounted smooth curls. Gudrun was the sort of person who wasn't meant to argue, at least when she was being Gudrun rather than a Sue, and Vila herself was hardly possessed of a fiery, feisty temper.

This was all so confusing.

However, the fact remained that she'd neglected her duty. Now that she really thought about it, there was very little question in her mind that the sisters were Sues. They were skillfully done Sues, yes, and it was true that no romance had happened yet, but they were far too lovely and tragic and sweet to be ordinary Port Royal citizens.

And she'd left Gudrun to battle them alone.

Ignoring the fact that Gudrun had battled Sues alone before, Vila gathered some comradely feeling in her breast, leapt off the ground, and strode toward the tavern, barely noticing that the everyday lives around her had started back up again.

----------

Gudrun had entered the tavern with a quietness that the voice might have been proud of, depending on its mood at the moment, and had made her way to the shadows.

The 'certain scoundrel' had proved to be Jack Sparrow, although he was going by a false name, and who sat at a table alone, the younger Sue before him. She giggled and chattled amiably, and Gudrun could almost _see_ Sparrow's self melting as he trusted her more and more.

"…And then they made me their chief," he said broadly, flinging out an arm. "Drinks all 'round!"

"You have had ever so many adventures for a Navy man, Captain Smith," Nerisse said charmingly. "I do wonder at your still being alive to tell us of them!"

"I do wonder at his still being alive at _all_," Cordelie said pointedly from behind the bar, where she was cleaning glasses. "All that rum, Captain Smith, it shall pickle your liver if you aren't careful."

"Ah, lass, me liver's un-pickleable," Jack said proudly. Nerisse broke out into peals of gay laughter.

"Well said, Captain Smith! But tell, what brings you to Port Royal? Rumors of piracy, perhaps? You may have heard of an incident with pirates concerning our governor's daughter, not long ago…"

Jack winked. "Aye, lass, I've heard of it. Involved a certain rogueish Captain Jack Sparrow, was the story I heard."

Nerisse opened her mouth to respond, but at that moment the door opened and a young man entered.

"Will!" Jack said, clambering to his feet to embrace his friend.

"Mr. Turner!" Cordelie said in shock, putting down the mug she was polishing. Nerisse turned and gave her sister a wink.

How Vila had managed to _not_ suspect these Sues was utterly beyond Gudrun's comprehension.

"How are you, me lad?" Jack asked, putting a companionable arm around Will's shoulders. Will sank into a chair.

"Hardly well, Jack, and what are you doing here anyway, they'll…" He noticed Jack's frantic motioning towards the sisters and cut himself off hastily. "That is, it's good to see you, Jack, but…a surprise."

"A rum for me boy here," Jack said to Cordelie, who blushed and obeyed.

"Elizabeth…she's changed, Jack," Will said in a low voice.

Gudrun settled in for a wait.

"She's less than I thought she would be. The spark is gone now, the enthusiasm; she's different. All that's in her head is pretty dresses and pretty things, and I simply can't summon up the interest she deserves, or believes she deserves," he added ruefully.

Jack nodded sympathetically. Cordelie set a mug in front of Will and cleared her throat.

"Begging your pardon, Mr. Turner, but if you're having problems with your wife, simply speaking with her ought to be your most successful endeavor."

"I've no idea how to talk to her anymore!"

Cordelie hesitantly took a seat.

At this point in the narrative, Gudrun began to nod off. She wasn't the sort for running about at all hours of the day, and had been on her feet for what seemed like forever, with only some sleep during missions; besides, she'd heard this scenario countless times, though not as a Medium, and it never grew interesting.

She was ever-so-slightly aware that Cordelie was dispensing marital advice to Will in pretty eighteenth-century vernacular, while Nerisse and Jack flirted off to the side in similar well-done argot.

The Sues were annoying, but they were certainly historically accurate, as far as speech patterns went.

Gudrun awoke with a start to find herself mostly alone in the tavern, Canon digging into her leg and her hair stuck to her face.

The only reason she wasn't alone was because Vila was standing over her, shaking her and looking concerned.

"I didn't know you were actually sleeping when I came in, or I would have woken you up," she murmured. Then, all in a rush that would have been far better suited to the other's character, "I'm sorry about earlier, you're right, I _was_ being stupid, they've gone off to see Jack's ship, they know who he is now, we'd better follow them."

Gurdun stood up, blinking blearily. "Yes, you know, we'd better," she said, too dazed to bother correcting herself. She began half-stumbling towards the door, the other Medium in her wake.

However, Vila noticed that she didn't return the Canon.

Once Gudrun inhaled the sharp night air, she woke up a bit more and regained some of her usual energy. Vila, on the other hand, felt stronger than she ever had before, and strode swiftly in front of Gudrun as they made their way quickly through the darkened streets and hills beyond, and reached the anchored _Pearl_ within an hour.

The shapes of Will and Cordelie were silhouetted against the night sky, Cordelie leaning ever so slightly against Will. She rested her head tentatively against her shoulder.

"This is inappropriate," she said softly, though her voice carried on the wind. "You are married, and I – " She chuckled. "For the last several hours, I have been your aid in preserving that marriage!"

"You have made me realize how useless preservation would be," Will said against her hair. "I cannot love Elizabeth anymore, Cordelie, but you – "

Gudrun began moving towards the ship, muttering something that sounded like "don't know why he said this was our match, you know, this is the stupidest story I've ever seen". However, Vila clutched at her arm.

"Don't."

Gudrun turned. Vila was staring at the two figures, a scrutinizing light in her eyes. "I'm not…Gudrun, I'm really not certain," she said desperately.

Gudrun stared at her. "But you said I was _right_."

"I know I did, but now that I look at them, Gudrun, they really could just be people – "

"But we haven't, you know, seen any other Sues! And Jack and Will are, you know, in _love_ with them! And they're – "

"I _know_ that," Vila snapped, her anger rising again. "But now that I see them again, they just don't seem as Suey as all the others. And if you Canonize the wrong people, I'm certain the voice will _never_ forgive you, so why don't you let me have the Canon and we'll go back and find the _real_ Sues."

By this time, Gudrun was gaping. "They _are_ the real Sues," she managed.

Vila stood furiously, her eyes, larger and darker than Gudrun had thought, flashing with a danger they'd never contained. "Well, if you really think so, just try and Canonize them and see what happens. _I'm_ going to find the real real Sues."

And, in an act of unbelievable out-of-character-ness, Vila turned and stormed away.

If Gudrun hadn't turned away in similar anger, she might have noticed when the moonlight caught in Vila's hair – longer and curlier than anyone remembered it – and made it shine for just an instant.

----------

Gudrun had a fleeting moment of nostalgia for the good old Sue fics, the badly written ones that never took history or reality into account, as she had a more difficult time than usual climbing aboard the ship.

However, nostalgia was not really a Gudrun emotion, so she shook it off and climbed, gasping for breath (as quietly as she could), over the rail.

She was greeted by a shimmering knife at her throat, a shimmering knife which was attached to a pale delicate hand, which was attached to an attractively smooth-skinned arm, which was attached to a swanlike neck, which was attached to a serene face, which belonged to the lovely young Nerisse Eithne.

Jack Sparrow stood behind her, aiming his pistol at Gudrun with a stupefyed, liquefyed look in his eyes.

"Well, well, well," Nerisse said, her voice as melodious and sweet as ever. "It would appear that we've caught ourselves a little Medium."

She gave a captivating grin. Behind her, Jack gave a chuckle which would have reminded Gudrun of Crabbe and Goyle, if she'd ever actually seen them up close.

All in all, Gudrun realized just before she passed out, it was a highly unfortunate situation.

----------

Lament it though she might, Vila Borcka just couldn't stop _thinking_ as she stalked away from Gudrun.

The two Mediums were hardly close – they were, in fact, as distant as it is possible for two people who apparently happen to share a destiny to be – and yet it didn't feel _right_, fighting with Gudrun. She'd never felt quite comfortable fighting with anyone, at least as far as she could remember, but with Gudrun it was like fighting with a small, infuriating boulder, or perhaps a large, exceedingly affable monkey. Both descriptions were apt, depending on when they were applied.

Anyway, there was something _wrong_ about fighting with Gudrun. It was satisfying, of course, but Vila suspected that there was a secret dark evil side to her _anyway_ that all this Medium-ing was bringing out, and that was why she was discovering her enjoyment for fighting and Canonizing, but it just wasn't right. It wasn't…moral, perhaps.

Vila groaned and passed a hand over her eyes, paying no attention to how shapely and delicate her fingers suddenly looked.

Of course, they wouldn't have fought anyway if Gudrun hadn't been so gallingly self-important. If Gudrun had accepted that she might be wrong, that Vila – the _seasoned_, _experienced_ Medium, might she add! – might be right, that Vila might have a better idea of how missions worked than some little novice witch (if you could even call her that) nobody had ever cared about, or ever _would_ –

Vila stopped in her tracks with another groan. Gudrun was right, and she knew it. What was _wrong_ with her?

Turning, she began making her way back towards the _Pearl_. Perhaps if she hurried, she could Canonize one Sue while Gudrun took the other. That was what partners did, wasn't it?

----------

Gudrun awoke, for the second time that day, with the faint smell of laudanum in her nostrils and a rather sick taste in her mouth.

"Well, she's finally awake," a melodious voice said, right by her ear.

Gudrun tried to move, and realized she couldn't.

"If the other one isn't here soon, Cordelie, I'm going to get rid of her, so help me – "

There was a sputtering, and a candle was lit. Gudrun blinked. They were in a cabin exactly like the one on the _Black Pearl_, except for it was pretty much completely different. But other than that, it was exactly like it.

There were paintings of various girls and young women all around the walls. Some of them, Gudrun recognized – there was the witch Sue she'd had to fight alone, there was Aurelia, there was a very pretty red-haired girl – was _that_ what she had looked like? And then there were ones she didn't recognize: the two girls with arms linked, one in a miniskirt and one in cargo pants; a young woman with purple eyes (?) and hair so pale it was nearly white; a dark girl with features oddly similar to Will Turner's.

All of the paintings were staring gravely down at Gudrun, making her feel rather as if she was back at Hogwarts, where all the paintings did that to her.

There was an enormous golden mirror hanging on another wall, with an enormous mahogany wardrobe next to it. It looked like the sort of wardrobe in which one might find another world entirely.

Cordelie and Nerisse were moving about in front of her, not paying her much attention as they fiddled with bottles of something. Gudrun looked in the mirror, and nearly leapt out of her skin (or would have, if she could have moved).

Behind her chair stood Will Turner and Jack Sparrow. They were both aiming pistols at her, but seemed otherwise to be in an utter stupor.

"Welcome aboard the _Lucinda Muse_, Miss Quenby," Cordelie said, turning from her table and giving Gudrun a winsome smile. "All that remains now is for your companion to join us, and we can rid ourselves of you once and for all. Little pest."

Gudrun tried to raise one eyebrow, but failed, having never been able to master that trick and not having the luxury of mobility anyway.

"You and that friend of yours have been making things difficult for us for _far_ too long," Nerisse added, gliding to her sister's side. "Your friend we can handle, because she has _ambition_, even if she won't admit it. But _you_…" Nerisse shook her head sadly. "You don't seem to have _anything_ we can work with."

"We're the best of the best, you see," Cordelie added, beaming. "We're the inspiration for all the others."

Nerisse gave her a smile.

And at that moment, the door to the cabin opened and Vila Borcka stepped through.

----------

Vila stopped dead at the scene she encountered.

Gudrun's eyes darted back and forth frantically.

"We knew you'd have to come back sometime," Cordelie said sweetly. "You couldn't just leave your only friend like that. That would just be _cold_."

"I…yes," Vila agreed. She couldn't quite remember now what she had been so worried about, when she had found the deck of the _Pearl_ empty and no sign of Gudrun.

"And you aren't a cold sort of person, are you?" Nerisse continued. "You're a very nice person. You're kind and gentle but you are _fierce_ when you're angry enough, aren't you?"

Vila had never been called fierce before, but wasn't quite averse to the idea of ferocity. So, though she still had no idea what was going on, she settled for nodding.

"In fact," Cordelie went on, "you're almost perfect."

"We can make you _all_ perfect," Nerisse said slyly.

Gudrun's eyes moved back and forth with somewhat more distress this time.

"They've already tried this on me," Vila said. "It won't work. I'm not pretty and I don't have a lovely voice and I don't know how to fight and I'm not magical, and I rather like myself that way." But in this den of Sue-ness, where everything was beautiful and shining, the words lacked the conviction they ought to have had, and Vila could almost see her inner Sue standing and dusting herself off from the last beating she'd taken.

To her surprise, however, the Sues laughed.

"You _are_ pretty," Nerisse said, taking Vila's hand and drawing her in front of the large mirror. "You're beautiful, in fact."

And it couldn't be denied. Vila's hair had miraculously grown long enough to reach her waist, and had curled of its own accord. Her eyes were large and dark, her skin charmingly pale, her figure well-formed, her features refined.

In fact, at that moment, it could easily have been said that Vila Borcka was the most beautiful woman in the world.

"And you have a lovely voice, we know _that_ just from hearing you speak, and if you sang a few lines you'd know it as well," Cordelie continued.

Vila, however, was too awestruck by her reflection to sing. She was _lovely_…she'd never been _lovely_ before…

"_And_ you're a good fighter," Nerisse added. "Weren't you just fighting today, with the little monster?" She jerked her head at Gudrun. "And you almost won, except she _bit_ you."

"How d'you know that," Vila asked, not really caring.

Nerisse didn't answer. "And who needs magic when you have beauty," she finished.

"You're already mostly there, Miss Borcka," Cordelie urged. "You've got all you need to have whatever, whoever, you want. You keep denying yourself, but really, it's _so close_…anything you've ever wanted, just within reach…"

With an almost involuntary motion, Vila turned her head to look at the rather slumped form of Will Turner, standing behind Gudrun. She'd never really thought about _wanting_ him before, but if it was going to be so easy…

_But what's easy and what's right aren't the same_, something within her said.

_Shut up_, said something else within her.

"All you have to do is say yes, and we can make you what you've always wanted to be, and rid ourselves of your little friend. Then you'll have what you want, and we'll have you out of our tresses," Nerisse said in dulcet tones. "After all, having you bring everyone back to reality does get _quite_ annoying. We're only trying to have a little fun, after all." She giggled.

Vila stared dumbly at her.

"And we won't _kill_ her, of course. Merely send her back to wherever she came from, to the life she knew before," Cordelie assured Vila, patting her arm kindly. "She can go back to being a bit of scenery at that school of hers, and _you_ can go on to greater things."

Vila Borcka had survived Sue psychology before, and had always prevailed. But she'd never been so close to Sueage before, and had never been so utterly surrounded by all things beautiful, and had never had two examples of perfection standing before her, smiling.

Slowly, hesitantly, Vila smiled back.

----------

**Author's note:** TBC. Fret not…yet.


	10. Verisimilitude, or Sued! Part 2

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Sorry to leave you on a cliffhanger like that. I've been planning to finish it up for awhile, but, sadly, didn't. Until now! Rejoice!

Thanks again to everyone who reviewed. And to any lurkers, hi, how are you, please let me know what you think, thanks.

**DISCLAIMER:** Nada.

---------

**The Happy Medium**

**By: Peacenik**

---------

As has been stated before within this text, Commodore James Norrington was a reasonable, sensible man, and prided himself on being so. He recognized when a battle was, essentially, lost, as his courtship to Miss Swann had been. He (usually) recognized when it was time to use tactics and when it was time to simply be forget the maneuvers and fight like a madman. He recognized when politics were more important than pride, and vice versa. He had been promoted for a reason, the reader is called upon to realize.

However, this was not to say that the commodore did not love a challenge. And his ongoing battle, for lack of a better word, with Jack Sparrow was just that.

Therefore, it was a source of great satisfaction to Commodore Norrington when Lieutenants Gillette and Groves, after a brisk knock, entered his office at the fort rather hurriedly one afternoon, interrupting some rather dull but necessary letter-writing.

"Sir," said Gillette, throwing him a quick salute, "it seems an unknown ship was observed turning the point of the island by a civilian. And," he added, his eyes taking on a rather smug gleam, "a strange man was seen at one of the taverns near the docks."

"A strange man, Lieutenant?" Norrington questioned, putting down his quill to listen.

"The description given was very similar to that of…Jack Sparrow, sir," Groves said, unable to suppress a small grin. Norrington, well aware of the young man's slight hero-worship for the pirate, felt the urge to grin as well, but settled for frowning instead.

"I see," he replied slowly. "And this strange man was observed by whom?"

"Officers Murtogg and Mullroy, sir, honest men with no history of drunkenness," Gillette responded. He added bravely, "I daresay he can't get away this time, sir, now that the _Interceptor_'s been fitted up again."

"I see," Norrington said again. Pushing himself away from his desk, he stood up slowly. "In that case, I believe it would be prudent to first search the island for any sign of Mr. Sparrow or his crew. The taverns might prove the most fruitful," he added dryly. "Report directly to me with any findings."

"Aye, sir," his lieutenants chorused, saluting again and backing out of the small room. Norrington watched them go, then crossed to the open window and gazed out at the tropical scene beyond.

_I daresay he can't get away this time, sir…_

Norrington allowed himself to smile. "I daresay you're quite right, Mr. Gillette," he murmured.

---------

"Father!"

A very puzzled-looking Elizabeth Swann, soon to be Turner, came quickly down the curving staircase of the Swann mansion, holding her skirts above the floor. "Father, have you seen Will?"

Governor Swann, who had been crossing the foyer to his private study, turned raised his eyebrows at his daughter. "Young William? I'd assumed he was you in the breakfast room."

"He _was_ with me," Elizabeth sighed, letting go of her skirts. "He was being quite irritable, however, and finally we began arguing in earnest, I've no idea over what – " She gave a quick roll of her eyes. "Then he stormed out of the room. I've been searching the house ever since, but no sign…I thought perhaps he'd gone to see you." _Though I don't know why he would_, she thought worriedly.

Governor Swann pursed his lips. "I haven't seen the boy once today, Elizabeth. Perhaps he's returned home?"

Elizabeth frowned anxiously. "If I haven't seen him by dusk, I'm going to call on him," she decided. "I hate to leave things unresolved."  
"Of course you do, dear. And there may not even be a need –I'm certain the boy will have come to his senses by then." Governor Swann patted his daughter's arm comfortingly and ambled off to his study, where there was a glass of brandy waiting for him.

Behind him, Elizabeth turned to gaze out the large French windows and gave another sigh. If only Will had at _least_ told her what was wrong!

---------

Some time later, something else entirely was happening on the island.

"It was the good writing," Cordelie said, not gloating like a bad B-movie villain, just being quietly smug, like a villain with a mind to live. "The good writing, and of course the realism. Nobody would believe that two sisters, both beautiful beyond belief, were living in a dirty town like Port Royal. But two _very pretty_ sisters have a better chance of making it here. It makes all the difference."

"That's the mistake ever so many authors make," Nerisse added. "They _lose_ complete touch with reality, when really they only need to alter it to suit their purposes. There's a distinction, do you see it?"

_No_, Gudrun wanted to say, but she still couldn't move.

"It always ends up coming back to haunt them," Cordelie finished sagely.

To Gudrun's horror, Vila gave a nod of agreement, which was dubious and tentative in a way very comforting to the other Medium, but was nonetheless a sign of _fraternization with the enemy_.

"Oh, poor creature!" Cordelie exclaimed suddenly, rounding on Gudrun. "I believe you'd appreciate having your mobility back, wouldn't you?" She smirked. "We'll let you move again, but you must promise not to do anything idiotic. You can't hurt us, anyway, as we've taken your little secret weapon." She nodded at the table where, too late, Gudrun saw the bottle of Canon gleaming in the lamplight.

There was a whispering sound, and Gudrun suddenly found herself able to stretch her arms and pull herself out of the chair.

"Enjoy the Caribbean while you can, dear, because it's back to that rainy Scotland weather in a moment," Nerisse mocked.

Gudrun, currently lost in a torrent of emotions she'd never really felt before – fear, anger, betrayal, sadness – was unable to answer. The cabin was quiet for a moment, as the two – or was it three now? – Sues admired themselves in the enormous gilt mirror, leaving Gudrun under the watchful, if rather glazed, eyes of Jack and Will, who were still aiming their weapons at her.

If she could just manage to get the Canon…

_And do what with it?_ she thought with unfamiliar bitterness. _Get rid of them, yes, but they can always come back again, and Canon can't fix Vila._

_So I'll have to fight alone from now on,_ the other half of her argued. _I'll get rid of them for now, and when they come back, well, I'll just have to be more prepared, won't I? And I won't have a partner anymore, but _that_ ought to just make me stronger._

Yet the thought caused a strange swell of unhappiness within her, and she felt, oddly enough, rather lost. Having never really considered herself found anyway, the feeling of being lost was most alarming.

Still, the Canon was _right there_…

Gudrun edged quietly away from Jack and Will, who didn't appear to notice, and towards the table, where, attempting to be as unobtrusive as possible, she started to reach out a hand for the little glass bottle.

However, while Gudrun Quenby had undergone many changes in the last few hours, she remained, underneath all the new depth and emotions and individuality that she had acquired, the same clumsy, incautious, hobbitlike little creature that she had always been. Therefore, her idea of unobtrusive was (at least to the freakishly sharp eyes of a Sue) rather far off the mark, and her ineptitude was nothing short of brilliant, as far as ineptitude went.

So it will come as no surprise to the reader that Cordelie, Nerisse, and Vila all turned at the same moment, elegant eyebrows raised, and that Gudrun's chubby little fingers managed to slip and knock the bottle over.

_This bottle must have been cursed, they don't usually break like that_, Gudrun thought dully, as the glass cracked on the hard mahogany of the table. Silvery, stringy Canon oozed out.

"Trying to make a last stand, little monster?" Nerisse said kindly. "Perhaps you have some fire in you after all."

"Perhaps she has some potential," Cordelie suggested, tossing her hair over her shapely shoulder. "She would make a fine sidekick, after all, with some reworking – the ugly little thing might be made endearing, if we tried hard enough, and she's got the sort of past that provides the prospect for angst."

Nerisse frowned in concentration. "Has she? Tell us about your past, little wretch."

To her startled horror, Gudrun felt her eyes tearing up. "I went to a boarding school…they were most terribly cruel to me…nobody ever noticed me…I hadn't got any friends…I was miserable!" Slapping a hand over her mouth, she blinked, eyes wide. Nerisse waved a hand and her tears dried so quickly that the words "instant" and "evaporation" came to mind.

"Quite well-done angst," said Nerisse, with the air of one commenting on an amusing bit of theatre. "But don't you find it rather _too_ angsty, Cordelie? If we could make her one of us, it would be perfect – but she's _clearly_ sidekick material, and sidekicks never have that much angst in them."

"I am _not_ sidekick material," Gudrun muttered, fists clenching as she defied her own sense of obvious.

"Then mark her as a waste, Nerisse, and send her back to the horrid fandom she came from. Send her the _painful_ way round," Cordelie added with relish.

Vila, who had been silent this entire time, had a sudden vision of a small greasy burn mark on the deck of a ship, what seemed like ages ago. She swallowed hard, without really meaning to, and felt sad, foggy fondness welling up within her. An urge to grab the gun out of Will's hands – and the idea that she would then be _touching Will Turner's hands, _joy of joys! didn't even occur to her – and shoot both Sues dead before they could lay hands on _her fellow Medium_ consumed her, but she quashed it. After all, she was beautiful and perfect now. She didn't need a little dark-haired quasi-Munchkin tagging along anymore.

And, somehow, the evil thought seemed incredibly true. She was rather amazed that she had ever put up with the little savage in the first place, much less that she had ever thought Sues were wicked and bad and needed to be stopped. Vila gave a silvery laugh and ran a hand through her curls. Why had she _ever_ thought it right to kill her own kind?

The inner Sue that had once resided within Vila was gone. In its place was a small inner Vila, and in Vila's place was a Sue.

---------

"Miss Swann!"  
With some relief, Elizabeth lowered the book she had been trying to attempt to read and faced the young servant who had entered the room, looking quite out of breath. "What is it, Estrella?"

Her maid put a hand to her chest, as if preparing to give a long eulogy. "You know I don't put much store in gossip, ma'am," she began, "but I must tell you that Franklin – you know Franklin, ma'm, looks after the horses – "

"Yes, I know Franklin," Elizabeth interrupted. Then there was the feeling of being struck in the heart, and she put the book on the table beside her, standing slowly. "This isn't about Will, is it?"

"Mr. Turner? Oh, ma'am, I'm afraid to say it is." The maid closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again, out of some long-buried flair for the dramatic. "Franklin says he was down near the docks this afternoon, and he happened to be passing by one of the taverns when he saw Mr. Turner going in, looking quite white-faced about _something_, he said. And you know Franklin isn't a man to invent such things, miss – "

"Of course he isn't," Elizabeth said, feeling something cold invade her spirit. "Was it – " She bit her lip. "What sort of tavern was it?" _There aren't any brothels in Port Royal, are there?_ she thought desperately.

"Oh, miss, a respectable one, sure enough, and not one of ill-repute, but Franklin says he passed by again on his way home, and just happened to look through one of the windows, and there was a very pretty girl leaning _all too close_ to Mr. Turner, and they seemed to be talking _very_ earnestly." Her eyes widened conspiratorally as she said this. "_And_ he says there was a most odd character in there was well, who looked like that pirate who was nearly hung last year." She carefully left out the part about Will and Elizabeth's role in that pirate's hanging.

"Jack Sparrow?" Elizabeth stared at the maid for a long moment. Jack Sparrow had returned to Port Royal, and Will Turner was having an affair – had the entire _world_ gone mad?

It was meant to be a rhetorical question, but some odd sixth sense seemed to be telling Elizabeth that the answer was yes.

"I'm going to find Will," she said suddenly, decisively. Estrella leapt back, startled.

"Oh no, ma'am, it's getting dark out, and you oughtn't to be wandering the streets alone at night," she said, but she had known her mistress ever since the Swanns' arrival in Port Royal, and she was quite aware that arguing would be useless.

Indeed, Elizabeth had already left the small library and was pulling on her shawl in the large foyer. "Then I shan't go alone," she said, and, with a hint of a smirk, "You shall come with me."

---------

"Sir, we've found the _Black_ _Pearl_!"

It was early evening when Gillette jogged into the commodore's office, saluting and giving his superior officer an admittedly smarmy smile.

"Not at the docks, I presume," said the Commodore, who had, naturally, expected success.

"No, sir, anchored just off the island, beyond the forest." Gillette snorted jubilantly. "Idiot. Did he think we wouldn't be able to spot him through the trees?"

Norrington raised an elegant eyebrow. Gillette dropped his grin and cleared his throat.

"Shall we attack then, sir?" he asked, slightly more subdued.

Norrington's eyebrow came back down and knitted together with its partner.

"Sparrow is not a fool, Mr. Gillette," he said calmly. "If he is docked in so obvious a place, it well may be that he is planning something. Give no sign that we are aware of his location, and, come nightfall, if he has not yet made his move, then we shall make ours."

"Sir."

"Very good, Gillette." Norrington gave his officer a brief smile and dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

---------

The two women hurried toward the smithy, where Will lived. Though Port Royal was not a particularly dangerous town, even at night, Estrella still glanced around them warily.

"Oughtn't we at least to have told your father, miss, so someone knows to look for us?" she whispered. The night was gathering slowly around them, and the maid was one of those women cursed with a naturally romantic disposition that sees both heros and fiends around every corner. At the moment, the fiends were far outweighing the heros.

"Then we'd never have got out of the house," Elizabeth replied, a trifle sharply. "And if we haven't returned by supper, he'll surely miss us. We've nearly arrived, anyway."

And they had. Estrella tugged on her cloak around her as her mistress strode up to the door and rapped sharply.

"Will!"

There was no reply. Elizabeth bit her lip. Brown, she knew, would have returned for the night, as he usually retired early, but Will still slept at the smithy – he would until they were married – and if he wasn't answering, it most likely meant he wasn't there…

"This is hardly proper, ma'am, even if he is an honorable man," Estrella said cautiously. Elizabeth ignored her, took a step back, and bent down to pick up a stone. "Miss Swann!"

The lady in question flung the stone at the window she believed to be Will's. It broke through the shoddy glass in an instant and landed with a loud thump on the other side.

_Well_, Elizabeth thought grimly, _even if it isn't Will's window, he couldn't have ignored that._

Yet ignore it he did, unless he wasn't there to hear it. Elizabeth's hands trembled slightly. "But where would he _be_, at this time in the evening?" she murmured to herself. Will dined alone, unless he was dining with herself and her father. He did not frequent the taverns, he had never visited a brothel, any spare hours he had he spent either at her side or at his anvil…

Didn't he?

Elizabeth turned away from the building, blinking back unfamiliar tears. Estrella laid a comforting hand on her lady's arm as they made their way slowly back up the cobblestone street, each entertaining some small hope that Will would suddenly open the door and call out to his love.

He didn't.

They passed the fort in silence, neither paying attention to anything but their own thoughts, until the moment they _happened_ to be passing under the commodore's open window, and _happened_ to hear the voice of one of his lieutenants:

"Sir, we've found the _Black Pearl_!"

Canon, it must be said, has its own kind of serendipity.

---------

For such a well-bred young woman, Elizabeth Swann – soon to be Turner – had quite a devious mind. It was her plan to loiter near the fort, until soldiers started emerging to unwittingly lead herself and her maid to the _Pearl_ (as they inevitably would), and it was a plan much argued (with some lack of enthusiasm) by Estrella.

"These games of intrigue are hardly proper, miss," Estrella said, clearly not meaning it. As has been mentioned, she had the soul of a romantic, and games of intrigue, if frightening, were infinitely appealing to her, proper or not. It didn't matter that it wasn't her intrigue.

"If Will's anywhere, he'll be with Jack," was Elizabeth's only response.

They waited until darkness had nearly settled before the soldiers began leaving the fort, moving quietly and carrying their muskets. Most of them were heading down to the docks, probably to board the _Interceptor_ and engage the _Pearl_ from sea, but some were going the other way, towards the tropical forest beyond the town, and they were the ones Elizabeth decided they should follow.

"They're less likely to notice us in the forest," she explained. "If we try to stow away, we'll be discovered."

Estrella, like much of Port Royal's working class (which was most of Port Royal), harbored a secret suspicion that the ghost of a tribal shaman walked the forest at night, and told Elizabeth so. To her surprise, her pragmatic mistress did not scoff at her, but rather gave her a thoughtful glance.

"Ghost stories are nothing once you've lived them," she said carefully. Then, as Estrella looked at her in puzzlement, she added quickly, "And we shall be with the soldiers."

So they trailed the small band of Marines through the darkening forest, taking care not to draw attention to themselves. More than once, at the cry of a bird or the sound of paws scampering away, Elizabeth found her maid clutching her arm.

And then they were _there_.

_There_ was a small cove, rocky and difficult but slightly hidden. The Marines advanced silently towards the _Pearl_, which was riding high in the water, then stopped suddenly.

"Someone ought to tell the guv'nor's daughter about this, mates," the one in front called quietly back to the rest, a hint of laughter in his lowered voice. He was pointing at the empty deck.

Well, no, it wasn't empty.

Elizabeth's hands curled into fists as she recognized the form of her fiancé, one of his arms at his side, the other wrapped loosely around the pale white shoulders of a shapely young woman. She gritted her teeth and stepped forward, Estrella hovering behind her.

"Oh, _ma'am_…" the maid breathed.

The pretty girl on the deck handed something to Will – _was that a pistol?_ and waved her hands before his face. He seemed to slump, and Elizabeth wondered if she'd cast a spell on him, for he followed her into the captain's cabin without any further word or gesture from either of them.

There was then a brief moment when Elizabeth thought she saw someone tall and thin scaling the side of the _Pearl_, but when she looked again, the apparition was gone.

The Marines laughed roughly, quietly, nudging each other and making crude jokes about the "blacksmith's hammer" that Elizabeth and Estrella tried not to listen to. After their mirth had passed, however, the leader cleared his throat.

"Well, gents, shall we board?"

There was murmured agreement from the others, and they moved towards the ship.

---------

"Shall we send her home now, Vila?" Nerisse asked, jerking her head towards Gudrun. "She's stopped being amusing."

"Vilmarisia," Vila murmured.

"I'm sorry?" Nerisse cocked her head.

"My name is Vilmarisia. Vilmarisia Borna," she said musically. The inner Vila within the Sue winced. Gudrun covered her mouth quickly to stop her convulsive giggles. For all her newness, she had not changed much.

Cordelie and Nerisse glanced at each other, and gave long, slow smiles. "You truly are one of us," Cordelie said admiringly.

Gudrun, who had been backing towards the door throughout this entire conversation, shuddered. As one, the Sues turned towards her, identical looks of attractive annoyance on their faces.

"Please, do not say you are _again_ trying to escape," said Nerisse wearily.

"It gets most tiring, little beast," Cordelie added.

"My _name_ is Gudrun, you know," Gudrun snapped, unable to stop the last two words from slipping out. "And it's a better name than _Vilmarisia_, so I'd like it if you used it."

"Gudrun, then," Cordelie sighed, wrigging her fingers in a delicate gesture of irritation. "Take a seat, Gudrun."

There was no need for her to say this, as Vilmarisia, who had crossed the cabin to stand beside Will, stepped forward and shoved her down onto the chair before she could do anything.

"You had best close your eyes, Gudrun," Nerisse said. She smirked. "This may well be _excruciating_."

"But it shall certainly be worth it," Cordelie added. "For us, that is." She winked. "We shan't be having any more problems with your kind. I doubt whoever sent you will bother sending any more Mediums, after their first dozen or so have been obliterated."

The image of the grease spot flashed again behind Vilmarisia's eyelids. This time she sniggered prettily, though rather uncomfortably.

Gudrun wanted to say something heroic, something that would keep them awake at night, something that would leave the door wide open for a sequel. However, nothing was coming to mind.

Nerisse gave a bubbly, flirtatious laugh.

That was her mistake.

---------

Apparently, the Marines had had orders not to attack the pirates until they had received a signal from the _Interceptor_.

The waiting was torture for Elizabeth, who could hear a low, melodious voice – a woman's voice – issuing from the cabin. Where Jack and his crew were, she had no idea. All she knew was that there was a _woman_ in that cabin, and there was her _fiancé_ in that cabin, and that was most certainly not the sort of thing she enjoyed.

The Marines had noticed her when she had climbed aboard after them – Estrella had stayed on the shore, not willing to board a pirate ship even at her most romantic – and had immediately felt all sorts of remorse for their "blacksmith's hammer" comments earlier. Attempting to persuade her to return home, however, had proved useless, as Elizabeth had already settled herself in for a long chastisement about the proper conduct of ladies from her father, and an awkward lecture about safety from the Commodore, and then a long, furious bout of tears, and then a bitter spat over fidelity with her betrothed. She was not about to miss all that out of fear for a few cannonballs.

And, really, there might not even _be_ a battle, if Jack and his crew kept up this amazing feat of invisibility.

"There it is, sir," one of the Marines said suddenly as the _Interceptor_ sailed around the edge of the island, forgetting to lower his voice. The leader quieted him immediately, but they were all whispering now, the excitement of the forthcoming battle having infected them. Elizabeth was nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet with a sort of nervous, furious anticipation.

The _Interceptor_ seemed to be taking far too long to reach them, Elizabeth thought hotly. She began moving forward.

"Miss Swann, we haven't received our signal yet," the leader hissed at her.

Elizabeth turned to reply, when there was a sudden bout of seductive laughter from behind the closed door.

"_That_ is my signal," she exclaimed, spinning around and rushing towards the cabin.

"Sir, the signal!" one of the Marines shouted. And, indeed, there was a flag waving from the _Interceptor_.

Even though it didn't know it, canon was fighting back, all of its own accord.

---------

The three Sues let out a shriek of utmost astonishment when the cabin door was flung open. At the same time, a cannonball to the deck rocked the ship, and there was shouting from outside.

"Get away from my husband," Elizabeth growled through clenched teeth at the pretty blonde girl standing beside Will. She chose to ignore the fact that Will was not, in fact, her husband, but rather focused on the dramatic element of the moment.  
"_You_?" Cordelie exclaimed, stepping forward. She was forced to duck, however, as a bullet flew past her ear.

"Where's the _crew_!" Vilmarisia shouted, dashing for the deck. "There's supposed to be a _crew_!"

"We don't _need_ a crew!" Nerisse shrieked, following her.

"Everyone needs a crew! No matter how good you are, you can't be perfect at everything! You always need someone behind you!" Vilmarisia shouted, then she clamped her hand over her mouth.

There was a moment where the world froze, a moment of supreme combat, a moment when the Vila and the Sue she had become were equals, neither within the other, battling each other _to the death_ as two parts of one person were, for one instant, intent on nothing but the other part's destruction…

_I'm Vila Borcka, Happy Medium._

_That is not to say, however, that you are not the best person for the job._

_I didn't mean to hurt you, really._

_It's sort of my life._

_…I don't, you know, think we _have_ a match._

"We don't have a match," Vila mumbled.

Then there was a moment of supreme triumph, as Vila lifted herself from her mental battlefield and stood proudly.

And then, back in the physical world, Vila Borcka fainted.

---------

Seizing her opportunity, Gudrun leapt from her chair and flung herself onto the table, scooping up the remaining Canon in her bare hands.

"Oh no you _don't_!" Cordelie screamed, throwing herself on top of Gudrun and clawing at her. Gudrun shrieked and tried fighting back, but it was one of the perks of being a Sue that one doesn't feel physical pain until it's time to angst about it, so her fighting had very little affect.

However, Gudrun was not stupid. She was well aware of the effect of grossness on people made of sunshine and light.

So she grabbed the Sue's forearm and licked it.

"Ew, spit!" Cordelie exclaimed, leaping up. She realized her mistake almost immediately, but was unable to rectify it as Gudrun flicked her Canon-coated hands, dripping Canon all over her.

Instead of turning into a Suethor, Cordelie merely fell to the floor, pale as death.

However, Gudrun didn't have time to worry about that as she ran for the deck. Nerisse was standing on the quarter deck, oblivious to Vila's unconscious form on the ground behind her, watching as the Marines hurriedly disembarked the ship.

"They are frightened of a mere girl!" she said scornfully, turning. Gudrun ignored the words and instead gave the Sue a hearty push with her Canonized hands. Nerisse fell gracefully to the ground, her face white.

Gudrun turned in a triumphant circle. Jack, Will, and Elizabeth, all looking rather confused (Jack and Will more than Elizabeth) were emerging from the cabin. Only then did Gudrun register Vila's body at her feet, the shouts from the Marines to "Get off the ship, Miss Swann!", and the voice inside her head, urgent and grave.

_Grab them, Miss Quenby, grab them!_

Gudrun dashed for the three extremely startled canon characters and threw her arms around them all in the biggest and only bear hug she'd ever given, just as the Fandomverse enveloped them whole.

As she was ripped away from the Caribbean, Gudrun watched the _Black Pearl_ explode in a mountain of flame.

---------

_They hit the powder magazine,_ the voice murmured grimly. _It is a shame; however, nothing Canon was not able to fix._

Gudrun was sprawled comfortingly, watching the Fandomverse scenery go by. Jack, Will, and Elizabeth had all been returned to their own world after spending a few utterly bewildering moments in something like limbo.

"I recognize you," Elizabeth had said faintly, her eyes focusing on Gudrun for a short second.

"I recognize her," Will said, his eyes on Vila.

"I recognize both of you," Jack had said, a disoriented look on his face.

Then they were gone, and it was silent. If it had had a throat to clear, the voice would have been clearing it now.

_You did very well, Miss Quenby. I must say, I had not expected…from your inauspicious beginnings, I had not _thought_ to expect…_

"Neither did I, you know," Gudrun said, not bothering this time. She looked down at Vila – comfortingly plain, nondescript Vila. The voice made a silence like clearing its throat again.

_I do hope, Miss Quenby, that your opinion of Miss Borcka has not…that is, I do hope the two of you shall continue to be able to work together, once Miss Borcka recovers somewhat._

Gudrun smiled. She was not entirely certain of what had gone on in Vila's head during those last moments of consciousness, and was not entirely certain she ever would know. But the other Medium was back to normal now, or back to looking normal, at least, and it was good to know, as Gudrun did now, that Vila Borcka had faults and problems.

Serious problems.

"We shall," she said, leaning back and putting her hands behind her head. "After all, _that_ is what friends do."

Then she snorted.

"Vilmarisia Borna," she snickered.

And for the rest of the ride home, despite the constant exasperated admonitions from the voice, Gudrun couldn't stop laughing.


	11. My Dad Thinks I'm A Princess

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** This fic is like _Scrubs_—just when you think it's gone for good, it pops back in for another (hopefully glorious) season! I realize it's been kind of like a three-year wait or something by this point, but now I have _sequels_ and _sequel!Sues_ to work with, so I'm revvin' up the old engine. This chapter is the last chapter dealing (almost) exclusively with _Curse of the Black Pearl_; after this, I'll be getting to the rest of the story.

**DISCLAIMER:** Not mine.

--

**The Happy Medium**

**By: Peacenik**

--

Why exactly the Royal Navy had been assigned to escort the Crown Princess of Ogmae (where _was_ Ogmae, anyway?) _anywhere_ was a bit of a conundrum, but the fact remained, Lt. Gillette reflected as he watched the princess' several chests being loaded onto the _Dauntless_, that Her Highness had found herself in Port Royal with a need to get somewhere else, and they, apparently, were the ones who were going to take her there.

Behind him, he could hear the princess speaking sullenly to the commodore in her high, flutey voice, with an indescribable accent that sounded completely, well, artificial.

"…Of course, I don't really _need_ thirty-seven gowns and sixty-three day dresses and a hundred and forty-one pairs of shoes and all the other things I've got in there, I could live without all of those things. Very easily, I could. I may have been brought up as _royalty_, but I am _hardly_ spoiled." She sniffed. Gillette had his back to her anyway, so he rolled his eyes without restraint. "But my father, _the king_, insisted. He said that his daughter, _the princess_, must have the very best. I hate it, all of it—I'd much rather live as _you_ do," she said, changing tactics suddenly and simpering. "Wearing trousers and jackets, living in just one room at the fort, without a big house or anything…it must be wonderful. So simple."

Gilllette, who had been to dinner parties and other social gatherings hosted at the commodore's elegant private home, coughed and waited for his superior to contradict the princess' words. However, the commodore merely responded, in a strange, distant voice, "Yes, wonderful."

The princess giggled and then bellowed out "CAREFUL WITH THAT SUITCASE, YOU MORON!" to a crew member who had shifted one of her cases in his arms.

Lt. Gillette winced and grimaced as the bizarrely accented shriek hit his ears full-force. Clearly, this was not going to be one of his most fondly-remembered voyages.

--

Gudrun Quenby, a (very) little bit less flighty, a (very) little bit more mature, was settled comfortably on a chair in the headquarters when Vila Borcka, looking rather drained, shuffled out of her room. She met Gudrun's eyes for a second before clearing her throat faintly and moving to rearrange some things on an end table.

Gudrun, who had Baldasarre in her lap and was enjoying simply _thinking_ for once, said nothing.

After a long moment, Vila ventured, "Well, I suppose I should thank you…for saving my life."

"Oh, you're very welcome," Gudrun replied breezily. "It would have been too difficult, you know, to continue on alone. I'm used to having, you know, backup."

Vila turned to her, still looking rather awkward and pale but with an eyebrow raised. "Backup? Excuse me, _Miss_ Quenby, but I'd say _you_ are _my_ backup. I was here first." There was a flickering of a smile, before she dropped down in the chair across from Gudrun. "Anyway, I suppose I should…" She took a deep breath. "I should apologize, as well. I mean, if I had listened to you—if I hadn't let them—well, you know," she finished uncomfortably. "I'm sorry."

"I think it had to happen sooner or later, you know," Gudrun said thoughtfully. "I mean, you can't run away from your problems forever."

"I was not _running_—" Vila stopped and took another breath. "I suppose you're right," she said diplomatically.

"I know." Gudrun stood and then, impulsively, reached forward and gave Vila a hug. Vila sat surprised for a moment, before patting Gudrun delicately on the head. Vila had never had a friend before, and hadn't had any siblings either, and she wondered if this was what it felt like to have both.

_Well, that certainly did take long enough_, the voice said crossly, and both Mediums jumped. _I do hope the two of you are prepared to work together without any more problems—_Vila flinched, and the voice softened slightly. _In any event, I've another one for you. I believe this, Miss Borcka, is what they call 'getting back on the horse.'_

Without another word, it thrust them into the Fandomverse.

--

In most cases, Lt. Gillette enjoyed being right. He was a rather smug young man in general, after all.

In this case, however, Lt. Gillette wished he had been horribly, horribly wrong.

It wasn't that he _disliked_ Princess Raeanne Varalee Kabiria Yanichelle of Ogmae—it was that he _couldn't_ _stand_ _her_, not her high, overly flirtatious voice with its horribly false accent, not the way she simpered and batted her eyes at the men and then screamed in outrage when they dared cast even a passing glance at her, not the way she sat at the commodore's table as though it was her own, not the way she used made-up words like 'moron', not the way she continuously bragged about her wealth and then _whined_ that she hated being treated so, not the way she had accosted him seventeen times on their first night out, each time with a new complaint about her accommodations.

"Mr. Gillette, don't you have any other bedclothes? These are too scratchy!"

"Mr. Gillette, my gowns are being wrinkled in those stupid suitcases—don't you have anyplace I could hang them up?"

"Mr. Gillette, my shoes don't fit in that dinky locker! Don't you have anywhere else I could put them?"

"Mr. Gillette, my cabin is too close to the men's! Don't you have anywhere else I can sleep?"

"Mr. Gillette, I want some tea! Can't you find someone to bring me some?"

"Mr. GILLETTE, some of the men are _talking_ and it's after ten o' clock! Can't you make them stop? I'm _tired_!"

At the last one, Gillette's Irish temper had flared and he had finally snapped at her ("If you're _so_ tired from your long day of _sitting around_, your highness, I doubt a little background noise will keep you awake"), and the princess promptly burst into sobs so loud that the commodore came running from his own cabin, concern plastered all over his face. Princess Raeanne wept that she couldn't _bear_ to bother the commodore himself, who must be _ever_ so busy, and that she hadn't thought a mere _lieutenant_ would mind helping her just a bit to get settled (never mind that he was the _first_ lieutenant, and everything Norrington didn't do himself—which was turning out to be an uncharacteristic amount on this voyage—was Gillette's responsibility).

Norrington had soothed the young lady and seen her off to bed before rounding on Gillette.

"Her highness is our lovely _guest_, lieutenant, and it is our duty to make her feel as comfortable as possible. I will not tolerate rudeness or unpleasantness of any sort directed towards the beautiful princess; it reflects poorly on myself, my officers, my ship, and my command…" And he had run on in that vein for some time. The words were tolerably Norrington-esque, aside from his oddly stilted and quite inappropriate application of adjectives such as "beautiful", "lovely", "charming", and even, once, "gorgeous", but the expression on Norrington's face was embarrassingly dreamy and lovesick; Gillette had never seen him look that way even when he spoke of Elizabeth, and it made the lieutenant a bit nauseous. To the commodore's tirade, he was unable to make any response other than "Yes, sir" and walk away feeling a bit like Cinderella.

No, Gillette truly could not stand Princess Raeanne Varalee Kabiria Yanichelle of Ogmae. He and his mate Lt. Groves, the only other man who seemed immune to the princess' dubious charm, did their best to avoid speaking poorly of her, even between themselves—they were gentlemen, after all—but Gillette was not famed for his restraint; he had once ventured the thought, and Groves had agreed, that there was something altogether wrong about Her Royal Highness.

But she certainly was beautiful, unnaturally so. Tall, slender, with dark brown curls that fell past her waist, laden with golden highlights from the sun (and usually done up in some exquisite style by her personal maid) and enormous, tawny eyes that held a hint of a lavender gleam. She was always impeccably dressed in magnificent gowns (that were really better suited for a ballroom than a warship), though she complained endlessly about having to wear dresses rather than the simple trousers and shirts of the crew, and always had a small golden crown perched somewhere in her curls, though she whined incessantly about being treated as royalty (and even more incessantly when she wasn't). Even Gillette had thought her lovely when he first _saw_ her; that impression had changed the minute she opened her mouth, of course, but didn't take away her physical beauty.

The only problem, besides her disgustingly ill character, seemed to be the spell she cast on everyone else. Even Gillette could feel it sometimes—a sort of warm glow, a very faint tendril of _something_ reaching out and touching him when the princess gave him one of her fawning smiles. He was able to shake it off without too much difficulty—sometimes he had the feeling of being ignored by it—but other men, particularly the commodore, had fallen wholly under its influence.

The _commodore_. Gillette scowled. His commanding officer had been tripping over himself to make Princess Raeanne as comfortable as possible: giving up his own cabin to her (and even postponing the officers' meetings held in said cabin until it was most convenient for Princess Raeanne to be out of it!), draining his larder to serve her the finest foods (not saying much, given typical shipboard fare), volunteering random unfortunate crewmembers to tend to her whims, allowing her to use the fresh water supply to wash her precious clothes (the salt water would be far too rough on the delicate fabrics), and even, once, ordering Gillette to spend an entire afternoon walking the princess up the deck, then down again, then up the deck, and then down again—so on and so forth—so she could, in her own words, be "just like" one of the men, never mind that they were all working whilst she tripped lightly about the ship and got in everyone's way.

Gillette was growing _so_ furious and _so_ desperate to shoot something that it was almost a relief when the pirates attacked.

--

Vila fell hard on her knees and let out a shriek as a bullet flew over her head. Beside her, Gudrun flung herself to the deck.

"Looks like a battle!" she cried out jovially, leaping back up again and pulling Vila up as well. "We haven't seen one of _these_ before!"

Before Vila could mentally verify the truthfulness of that statement, a cannonball connected with a nearby railing and wood splintered everywhere. The two Mediums let out twin cries and, still cowering, covered their faces instinctively.

"This sucks," Vila muttered into the deck beneath her. She was beginning to wonder why she had bothered waking up that morning when her attention was caught by a shrill scream.

Both Mediums looked up to watch a stunning brunette in a silk dress being dragged out from the cabins (though she struggled mightily against her pirate captors). A beam of sunlight filtered down through the smoke of the battle and glinted off of a delicate golden crown perched in the girl's shining chocolate tresses with (streaks of nougat and caramel).

If Vila Borcka had been the sort of person who not only knew but quoted famous films such as _Apollo 13_, she might have said something along the lines of "Houston, we have a princess". However, she was not, and did not, and instead merely blinked rapidly several times as the struggling beauty was pulled along the deck.

"HOW DARE YOU?" the girl shrieked. "DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM? DO YOU KNOW THAT I AM A PRINCESS? GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF OF ME, YOU ANIMALS! THIS IS PURE SILK! YOU'RE GETTING IT ALL _DIRTY_!"

"You know, telling people who are considering kidnapping you that you are someone important is the worst idea _ever_," Gudrun sighed, watching the pirates force the princess onto the deck of their own ship.

"Anyway, they probably already know, because why else would they want to kidnap that harpy?" Vila responded, but before she could say anything else, a great bellow came from the other side of the deck.

"PRINCESS!!" Commodore James Norrington howled, bolting towards the opposite rail. "NO! NOOOOOOOOO!" He took a deep breath, like an opera diva preparing for her grand finale, and roared "I'LL GET YOU, SPARROOOOW!"

Vila winced and Gudrun looked embarrassed for the poor man, reduced to Saturday morning cartoon clichés as he was.

He was too late, anyway. The princess, still screeching loudly enough to wake the dead and fighting enough to look brave and _feisty_ but not enough to actually have any effect, had been dragged into the captain's cabin of the _Black Pearl_ (because of course it was the _Black Pearl_, what other ship would it be?), where she proceeded to bang on the door and shriek unladylike curse words like all of the other stupid Sues that had been locked in there for no reason over the years.

And, as if her captivity was a signal, the pirates began immediate retreat to the decks of the _Pearl_.

"Stay here with the Commodore," Gudrun said suddenly, turning to Vila.

"What are you—"

"I'll go keep an eye on the Sue. You can trust me, you know," Gudrun went on, taking the bottle of Canon from Vila's hand and sprinting after the departing pirates. Vila blinked and she was all but gone, a stout shadow swinging onto the deck of the _Pearl_.

The pirates were gone as suddenly as they had appeared, and the

_Black Pearl_ a speck on the horizon. Gillette knew that that couldn't be right, that no ship could possibly be that fast, but he didn't have time to question the gods as Norrington turned to him very suddenly and ordered "We will give chase."

"Sir?"

Norrington's face darkened but, at the same time, took on a lovesick gleam. "They have kidnapped Princess Raeanne Varalee Kabiria Yanichelle of Ogmae. Her Highness was our charge; it is our duty to ensure her safety from those despicable pirates. _Besides_," he continued, lapsing into a sickening smile, "isn't she simply the loveliest creature you ever beheld? Her perfect hair, her perfect smile, her perfect eyes, her perfect body, her perfect ears, her perfect eyelids, her perfect shinbones…"

"Er. Yes, sir." Gillette swallowed hard and turned to give the order, the commodore still running on at his side. (Later, Gillette would spend some time trying to erase the sound of Norrington's voice intoning "Her perfect patella, her perfect distal phalanges, her perfect tarsalmetatarsals…" from his memory.)

From her hiding spot beneath the stairs to the quarterdeck, Vila wondered if the summary for this particular story read "Who will the princess choose, the gentlemanly Commodore Norrington or the dashing pirate Jack Sparrow?" Closing her eyes, she made a silent vow that they would obliterate the princess before she had to make that decision.

--

The deck of the _Black Pearl_ was bare, poorly described, and unresemblant of a real ship as usual. Gudrun sat down behind a cluster of superfluous barrels outside the captain's quarters and waited as the pirates made sail and then largely disappeared belowdecks, with the exception of a few swabbing the deck mechanically.

Princess Raeanne Varalee Kabiria Yanichelle of Ogmae was still squawking away in the cabin as she pounded incessantly on the door. "YOU LET ME OUT, YOU MORONS!" she wailed. "YOU LET ME OUT RIGHT NOW, DO YOU HEAR ME?"

"An' wot 'ave we 'ere?" Jack Sparrow demanded, appearing out of nowhere. Gudrun scrunched down a bit behind the barrels, praying he wouldn't see her. He didn't, of course. The typically observant, vigilant Jack Sparrow of canon had been quite seamlessly replaced by the typically single-minded, Sue-focused Jack Sparrow of fanfiction (quite seamlessly replaced; that is, aside from the small part of Jack still inside his brain, wondering who the hell this fishwife in his cabin was, and why he had allowed himself to be locked out).

"A princess, sir," said a nameless pirate.

"A princess, eh?" Jack cocked an eyebrow before opening the cabin door. Raeanne strutted out, her beautiful face aflame with (self-)righteous fury.

"That's right," she snapped, drawing herself up to her full height and tossing her head haughtily. "I am Princess Raeanne Varalee Kabiria Yanichelle of the great empire Ogmae, and I demand you release me!"

"We're in the middle of the _ocean_," Gudrun muttered.

"We be in t'middle of t'ocean, savvy?" Jack slurred, his speech bearing the peculiar marks of a Suethor who is desperate to make her Sue seem more refined by making everyone else around her speak in terrible English.

Raeanne glared around at the pirates who had gathered. "Get back to work, you dumbasses!" she shrieked, and they all scuttled away, despite the fact that any _real_ pirate would have pointed and jeered at the stupid little chit who thought herself important. Turning back to Jack, she sneered "Well, then, you probably think yourself very clever indeed. What are you planning to do with me?"

Jack chuckled lasciviously and Raeanne let out an outraged gasp before giving him a sharp slap across the face, which he accepted without complaint. "I didn't mean _that_, you pervert! God! I meant why did you kidnap me, stupid?"

"Yer a princess, savvy? No doubt ye be worth quite a purty penny." Jack stumbled a bit over 'purty', as if he was trying to pronounce the word correctly but couldn't quite remember how. He shook his head and went on. "An' I plans to use that t'me a'van'age, savvy?"

Night crashed down and Gudrun winced.

"I will sleep in your cabin," Raeanne decided, turning on her heel and storming back into Jack's quarters.

"Aye, lass, but o'ly if I sleep in t'bed wit' ye, savvy?" Jack replied, staggering after her. There was the sound of the captain receiving another smack.

"YOU WILL NOT SLEEP IN THIS BED WITH ME YOU FILTHY PIRATE!!1111" Raeanne screamed, even managing to pronounce the ones.

Gudrun crept to the door of the cabin. Raeanne had made herself perfectly cozy in Jack's bed, into which the captain was now attempting to climb. He was rebuffed with yet another sharp slap.

Feeling rather ill, as if she had had too many clichés for one day, Gudrun settled back down behind the barrels, ready for a long night.

--

Lieutenant Gillette was ready to kill something.

It was apparently not enough that the majority of what _should_ be the Commodore's responsibility had fallen to him; no, indeed. It was apparently now _also_ his duty to be summoned to the cabin of said Commodore on a regular and completely unreasonable basis, either to console his weeping commanding officer or to assist with the _sonnets_ Norrington had taken to writing in honor of Raeanne's loveliness and perfection. He had rather hoped that the princess' departure would put an end to Norrington giving him ridiculous demands; apparently, he was wrong.

"What rhymes with 'tresses', Gillette?" Norrington had asked him last time.

"'Messes', sir," Gillette had supplied. And then, spotting an opening, he had added hurriedly and, he felt, a great deal more kindly than was warranted, "And we will surely be _in_ a mess soon, if you do not come out of this funk and resume your ordinary duties."

"Oh, Gillette," Norrington had sighed. "I cannot think of duty when I am deprived of…_beauty_!" Struck by inspiration, he had scribbled furiously for a moment, then looked up again. "How can you expect me to do my job when I am wrought with grief over the loss of the woman I was determined should be my bride?"

"I…sir?"

"That's right, Gillette." Norrington had suddenly looked very, very evil, in a cartoonish sort of way. "Princess Raeanne Varalee Kabiria Yanichelle _will_ be mine."

Gillette had closed his eyes, taken a deep breath, counted to ten in English, French, and Gaelic, and opened them again. "Sir, we all…regret the loss of her Highness' presence among us. Yet how do you expect us to regain her if not by rescuing her? And how are we to rescue her when our commanding officer is acting, with respect, sir, like a lovesick youth on the night of his first ball?"

There was silence in the cabin. Then, "Gillette, what rhymes with 'lavender orbs'?"

Afraid he would do damage to the Commodore or himself if he remained in the cabin, Gillette had turned and stalked out.

--

Vila was wandering aimlessly about the ship. She blended in quite well—she was dressed sensibly enough, in breeches and a shirt, and her perfectly ordinary clothing, combined with her natural ability to look like part of the scenery, allowed her to move about at will without being noticed.

The _Dauntless_ seemed to be running rather smoothly. Clearly, the Sue hadn't bothered to meddle with descriptions when it came to this ship, as the majority of the action was probably taking place on the _Pearl_. Sailors, rather unrealistically well-dressed (but that was to be expected in a Disney fandom), were performing their ordinary duties, while the officers consulted together over officer-like things such as courses, plans of action, etc. The only thing Vila noticed was that they all seemed to be avoiding the Great Cabin, and she soon figured out why, as she happened to pass by it during a conversation between the fanatical Norrington and his hapless first lieutenant—but there was really nothing she could do about _that_. Not without the Canon, anyway.

In short, there didn't seem to be much for Vila to _do_ on the _Dauntless_. She heaved a great sigh and slid down to sit next to a pile of ropes, which she picked up and turned over in her hands to make it look, on the off-chance of inquiring eyes, like she was doing something.

She wondered what Gudrun was doing—or rather, what Gudrun had _thought_ she was doing. _You can trust me, you know_. Did that mean that Gudrun didn't trust _her_? Vila bit her lip. Was Gudrun trying to say that she didn't think Vila was a good enough Medium to handle this one, after what happened on the last mission? Or, as she assured herself was more likely, was it just that Gudrun was rather stupid and impulsive and had made a split-second decision without taking Vila into account?

Either way, it was worrying. Vila was just beginning to feel good and sorry for herself when she felt the completely alien and gut-wrenching feeling of a hand on her shoulder, pulling her to her feet.

"You, sailor!" a man's voice said in her ear. "Are you on duty?"

"I—er—" Vila tried to come up with something to say as she was turned roughly to face the man, a pale-faced officer with russet eyebrows and freckles scattered across his nose. His eyes widened abruptly as he took her in.

"My God," the man said in rather horrified surprise, "You're a _woman_."

Vila's mouth was hanging open. For a brief second, she prayed desperately that the Voice would make her invisible as he had on the Leila Tenebrous mission, but then realized that that would probably do more harm than good (after all, a stowaway woman was infinitely less likely to be executed than a disappearing stowaway witch) and instead began searching her mind for something to say.

"Yes," she said finally.

It wasn't the most effective response, but the officer didn't seem to be listening anyway. He had taken a step back and had the look of someone who has made a nasty discovery and is about to find someone else to take care of it.

"Don't!" she said, terrified, as he opened his mouth. "Look, don't, you can't!"

He stared at her. "I beg your pardon?" he said snidely.

"I can explain," she began. At his haughty look, she added "No, really! It—um—is there somewhere else we can talk?"

"No."

"What?" Vila had seen stories with stowaway girls before, and they _always_ got what they asked for on account of their tomboyish yet undeniable charm. It was just her luck, she thought, that the _one time_ she really needed to use a Sue trick, it didn't work.

"The Great Cabin is…unavailable, and it would be highly inappropriate for you to be in the wardroom or officers' quarters. Actually," he went on, seeming to remember himself, "it's highly inappropriate for you to be aboard this ship at _all_. Miss, I'm afraid I'm going to have to report you to—"

"Look, I don't think the Commodore is going to notice anything just now," Vila said urgently. "I'm not a stowaway—well, I am, sort of, but—it's complicated—can I _please_ just explain to you why I'm here?" she begged.

The young man squinted at her for a moment, but sighed and motioned for her to begin.

"Well," she began.

Ah. Yes. There was the trouble, wasn't it? Vila didn't really have anything to say. She scanned her brain frantically for a likely story, but nothing was coming to her. Telling him that she was just a stowaway was out, as she had just told him she _wasn't_ a stowaway, and anyway it would put her right back to square one. Begging not to be put in the brig would probably only get her put in the brig. She briefly considered denying she was a woman at all and acting highly offended, but common sense intervened and told her that that was about the stupidest idea she had ever had.

_If you were a Sue,_ her inner Sue started, but Vila silenced it with a rough shake of her head that made the lieutenant look slightly concerned.

This was bad. This was beyond bad, this was absolutely disastrous. She had been _discovered_. She was a Medium who had been discovered by a canon character. Granted, he was a very minor character who, if she remembered correctly, got loosely disposed of by the second film anyway; but he had still looked right at her and seen her and noticed her and touched her and now he was waiting for her to tell him who she was, which she absolutely should not do. She wasn't sure what, exactly, the repercussions of this would be, but she was sure they would be at least mildly traumatic. The Voice was probably barely restraining itself from killing her even now. She had no doubt that it was watching the proceedings with dismay.

"I'm waiting," the lieutenant reminded her. Vila took a great deep breath.

"All right," she started again, moving closer and lowering her voice. "You know the princess? Princess Raeanne?"

The officer's face twisted. "Yes," he muttered.

"Well, I'm supposed to get rid of her for you." It was short and sweet and didn't tell him much that he wasn't supposed to know. Vila felt she deserved a slightly-less-than-incredibly-awful death for that.

Unfortunately, it didn't quite work out that way. "You're an _assassin_?" the man exclaimed, jerking away and looking scandalized.

"No! No, no, well, sort of, but no, I'm not supposed to _kill_ her. I'm just—look, she's not supposed to _be_ here."

"She's not here," the lieutenant countered. "She was kidnapped. I'm afraid you missed your chance."

"That isn't what I meant!" Vila felt as if she might cry. "I meant she isn't supposed to be _here_. At all. In the world. She isn't supposed to _exist_. She's not real, she snuck in from—from who-knows-where, and she's changing things that shouldn't be changed. I mean—you've noticed it, haven't you? How there's something unnatural about her? How—"

She was unable to finish, as the lieutenant grabbed her arm roughly and marched her swiftly across the deck, down the stairs, and into a rather small, deserted cabin with a lone lamp swaying forlornly over a standard-issue bunk. The lieutenant closed the door behind him.

"Who are you?" he demanded, staring at her in the dim light of the lamp. Vila swallowed nervously. This was not going at all well.

"My name is Vila Borcka," she said slowly. "I'm a sort of—a sort of protector. I'm supposed to keep people like Raeanne from running amok and ruining everything."

"Like a guardian angel," the lieutenant mused. "Looking out for the world, ensuring things run in their proper path. Am I correct?"

"A bit," Vila replied, distracted. She was busy worrying—what if some of the crew had noticed the officer dragging her belowdecks? _His_ discovery of her was bad enough. She pulled herself together and added "But I'm not an angel. I mean, I haven't got any powers, or wings, or anything. The only useful thing I have isn't even with me right now, it's with someone else."

The man was still studying her. "I'm not entirely certain I believe you," he said slowly. "You were talking about her Highness…?"

Vila inhaled. "Haven't you noticed it? How everyone falls in love with her, how everyone wants her, how she gets away with anything? Haven't you ever felt there was something…wrong, about her? Haven't you ever looked at her and thought she was too beautiful to be real?" She didn't wait for an answer; the look on the officer's face told her plainly enough. "Well, it's because she _is_. She isn't supposed to exist. She's…I don't want to say evil, because I don't think it's that significant a situation, really, but she isn't good. It's my job to send her back to where she came from, wherever that is, so the world can go on like it's supposed to. And not just her," she added. "There are others like her, there have been for ages. I've been… putting everything back into place."

"And no one has ever noticed you before?"

"I don't think so. I'm usually very good at not standing out," Vila said, rather defensively. "People normally don't even realize I'm there. And once the Sue—that's what we call them—once the Sue is gone, I'm gone, as well, and everyone forgets it ever happened."

The lieutenant looked rather smug. "I am the exception to the rule, then."

"I suppose so. It's probably because you're an—" She caught herself in time. Vila had been about to say 'incredibly minor character', which would necessitate explaining that the young man's world was entirely fictional, and _that_ would probably result in said world exploding, or something.

"I'm what?"

"I don't know. I don't know what I was going to say." Vila tried for a shrug. It seemed to work.

"Well," the young man said, after a long pause, "Miss…Bork?"

"Borcka."

"Well, Miss Borcka. I still don't know that I believe you, but I'm afraid I don't know what to do with you."

"I think that all you can do," Vila suggested, "is catch up to the _Black Pearl_, so that I can get to Raeanne and fix everything. Then I'll leave, and none of this will ever have happened."

"We're doing our best, Miss Borcka. Unfortunately, our commanding officer has suffered something of a breakdown…"

"I know about that," Vila interrupted. "That's why I'm still here, actually. I think I'm supposed to be keeping an eye on Norrington." She hesitated. "My partner is aboard the _Pearl_, keeping an eye on Raeanne."

"Dear _God_. There are more of you?"

"Only one more. And _she_ was a bit of a mistake, anyway," Vila added, with a faint hint of smugness.

"I see." He clearly didn't. "Well. I suppose you want me to not breathe a word of your presence to anyone else?"

"_Please_. I'm really not supposed to let anyone know I'm here—your knowing is probably the most terrible thing that has ever happened to me, and I haven't even had to face the consequences yet."

"And you swear you are not aboard to cause any sort of mischief or harm?"

Vila blinked. "Rather late to be asking that, isn't it?"

The lieutenant shrugged. "Forgive me, miss, but you don't really seem like much of a threat. I was only asking because it seemed I should."

Vila was deciding whether or not she should take offense at that when the door began to open. She threw herself into the corner just as another head peeked around the doorframe.

"Gillette, the commodore wants a word with you in his cabin. _Again_." The other officer sighed. "Lord, what is he doing in there, writing limericks?"

"They're sonnets, Groves," Gillette said dismally. "Tell him I shall be at his service directly."

"Well, do hurry," Groves said. "He's in a fit—can't seem to figure out a rhyme for 'sun-drenched'." He vanished around the doorframe. Gillette closed the door quickly and turned to Vila, still hiding in the corner.

"Er…stay here," he suggested, and hurried away.

--

Gudrun had not gotten much sleep, given the fact that Raeanne and Jack spent the entire night the way they usually do in such stories—first bickering over who got the bed, then falling asleep and, apparently, cuddling (Gudrun knew this because she had slipped into the cabin in an attempt to Canonize the Sue, but had stopped when Jack Sparrow, arms firmly about Raeanne, shifted and blinked at her bewilderedly and muttered 'Woss that?' before drifting to sleep. It was a relatively minor incident compared to what was, unbeknownst to Gudrun, going on aboard the _Dauntless_ at the moment, but gave her a moment of panic nonetheless). The Medium had decided that Canonization could wait, at least until Raeanne did something absolutely unforgivable, and crept out of the cabin again to find a makeshift bed on a coil of rope that nobody seemed to be using at the moment—only to be rudely awakened, of course, by Raeanne's obligatory outraged scream in the early hours of the morning, when she discovered Jack Sparrow's muscular arms about her trim waist.

The princess was now leaning against the rail, deep in conversation with Will Turner (who had mysteriously appeared from belowdecks, and appeared to be completely smitten with Her Highness). Jack was standing idly by, a look of rather forced jealousy on his face.

"I say, lass, wouldn't ye rather talk t' a real pirate, savvy, rather than this eunuch?" he said impatiently after a few minutes. Raeanne turned to him.

"Hardly! Dirty, nasty, dreadful brutes, the lot of you, and _you're_ the worst of them all," she replied haughtily.

Jack's face colored and he turned away stiffly. Gudrun rolled her eyes.

"And yet," Raeanne continued, as Will hurried off to do something useful and she was left on her own to lean becomingly over the rail, her hair rippling in the wind, "there is something about him that attracts me, I cannot deny—some air of masculinity, of assured maleness." She surveyed Jack critically. He was sashaying about the deck, hips swaying, eye paint gleaming slightly in the sunlight, thick lashes downcast, long hair tied back, arched lips turned in a pout that was almost pretty as her own. "He is such a _man's_ man," Raeanne sighed, and returned to her contemplation of the sea.

--

In Gillette's absence, Vila had managed to fall into an uncomfortable and terrified sleep on his strikingly uncomfortable bunk. She jerked awake when the young man came back through the door, looking profoundly infuriated and, when his eyes fell on her, rather startled.

"Ah," he said. "Yes. I'd almost forgotten about you. Not entirely sure how _that's_ possible, but then it has been a rather trying voyage." Vila sat up and crossed her legs pretzel-style in front of her, leaving room for Gillette to collapse on the bunk beside her. "He's gone utterly mad, you know."

"Norrington?"

"The _Commodore_, yes. He's just sent me scurrying all over the ship looking for _oil paints_. Apparently sonnets are insufficient and he must show his love for Her Highness through the visual arts, specifically portraiture." Pulling off his wig and tossing it across the tiny room, Gillette ran a hand over his red hair and sighed.

Vila felt unaccountably guilty as she watched the lieutenant's obvious distress. She had a feeling that if Gudrun had been here, she would have given him a hug or at least patted him on the arm or something, but then, Vila wasn't Gudrun. "We'll put him back to normal," she said, as soothingly as possible for someone who was never exactly the "soothing" sort. "Like I told you. Once I get rid of Raeanne, everything will go back to the way it was before."

"As if that was much better," Gillette muttered. At Vila's look, he went on, "You know, don't you? I thought you knew everything that had been happening. Before it was this so-called princess, it was Jack Sparrow. 'One day's head start,' he told me, and he bloody well meant it. Do forgive me my language, miss," he said dutifully and without much feeling. Vila waved a hand dismissively. "He's been chasing Sparrow like the Devil himself, and this time he means to kill him in battle or put him behind bars where he belongs. Not that there's anything wrong with that, of course—Sparrow is a criminal, after all—but I think it might be driving him mad, and it's putting the crew in danger."

"Ah—well—" Vila bit her lip again. She was fairly certain she _was_ remembering correctly, and that this young officer was one of the vaguely accounted for casaulties resulting from Norrington's manic chase through the hurricane. "I'm sure everything will be all right," she said glibly, unsure what else she could say to a character who was about to be killed off.

"Unfortunately, I am not so sure." Gillette gave another great sigh. "Do forgive me, Miss...Borcka, was it?" Vila nodded. "I shouldn't be burdening you with my problems. You're a guardian angel, after all, and have no care for the earthly troubles of men."

"I'm not an angel, I told you," Vila began, but Gillette had a slight

smile on his lips and she stopped, managing to give him a slight smile back.

"Oh," Gillette said, standing and retrieving his wig, which Vila privately thought he looked way better without. "And I meant to tell you. The _Pearl_ has been spotted, and the Commodore intends to catch her and take her by nightfall."

Vila stood as well, then realized she really had nowhere to go and sat back down. "That is good news. Hopefully my partner still has the C…our weapon…and hasn't managed to drop it overboard or throw it to the dolphins or spill it in someone's soup. Or anything."

"_Spill_ it?" Gillette quirked an eyebrow. "Exactly what sort of weapon

is this?"

"A weird one. But it's a weird job." Vila yawned and ran her hand through her hair. "So I should just wait down here, then?"

"Until we catch the _Pearl_, yes. When there's a chance for you to board and dispose of the princess, I'll run down and fetch you." Gillette turned to leave, then paused and turned back. "And I should warn you, Miss Borcka: it may be a rather difficult wait. It looks like rough weather ahead—some of the men are predicting a hurricane, but then, they're all pessimists." He smirked.

Vila's heart sank and realization set in. "Oh," she managed to squeak.

"Until then, miss." Gillette gave her a slight bow and was gone.

Vila looked up at the ceiling, imagining the deck beyond it and the sky beyond that, where she was sure the Voice was lingering, and gave it her most accusing stare. "That," she declared, "is just mean."

--

"The Commodore!" Raeanne shrieked, leaning over the rail and apparently spotting the_ Dauntless_ on their trail. "Oh, God, he's come for me! I knew it!" She collapsed, sobbing, into the conveniently nearby arms of Jack Sparrow. "He's come to kidnap me and take me back to my horrid royal life in Ogmae! Oh, God help me! Oh, Jack, _do_ something!"

"No need, missy, savvy," Jack said, clutching her tenderly and stroking her hair with his manly, manky hands. "I' looks like bad weavver a'head—like an 'urricane, if we're lucky, savvy." He gave a rogueish grin. "They won't try to foller us through that—not unless they're mad, savvy."

"But he _is_ mad!!11" Raeanne pulled herself out of Jack's arms and looked him square in the eyes, beautiful damselly distress written all over her imperial face. "He's mad for _me_!! He's in love with me, obsessed with me, he wants me to _marry him!!_'" She gave a theatrical shriek and collapsed again. "_But I'm so young!!1111_"

"Not less than half an hour ago, you was prayin' for yer almighty Commodore to come save ye," an unimportant and obviously stupid crewmember murmured, and promptly vanished in a puff of logic. The major players ignored his ridiculous and unwarranted comment, which had probably been motivated by jealousy.

Gudrun, blending in with the background as all good Mediums do, clutched the Canon tightly. Raeanne still hadn't done anything absolutely unforgivable—there was no law saying Jack Sparrow couldn't fall in love, even with a princess of a country that didn't technically exist. And as for Ogmae not existing, well, technically, Port Royal itself shouldn't even exist, considering that it had been mostly destroyed by an earthquake in 1692. It wasn't reality Raeanne had to disrupt; it was canon. And so far, the story seemed to be progressing with no real damage. Gudrun, who had been forced to listen to the princess' screechings all day, greatly regretted this fact and wished the Sue would just do something awful already.

A roar of thunder rolled through the air, and rain began falling—_around_ the _Pearl_, rather than on it. Confused, Gudrun wondered whether _this_ was the Sue's canon breakage or whether it was some kind of sign from the gods or, more likely, the Voice. She looked around, seeing lightning splitting the blackening skies surrounding them while the skies above them remained a unthreatening gray, with even a few hints of blue.

"Saints be praised," Gibbs declared, eyes raised to the heavens. "We're in the eye of the storm!"

"I told ye everythin' would be all righ', savvy," Jack smirked to Raeanne, locking his arms around her and escorting her towards his cabin. "I've got me ol' friend Luck on me side, savvy? Now, how's abou' we occ'py our time in some more _pleasurable_ fashion…"

"AS IF! I WOULD NEVER SLEEP WITH YOU!!1111" Raeanne bellowed, pushing him away from her and running towards the rail. The crew followed her, leaning over the rail to look behind them at the _Dauntless_. Gudrun ran to the opposite rail and leaned over as well. The _Dauntless_ was struggling with crashing waves and flashing skies and Gudrun's heart suddenly began pounding very fast. She had forgotten about the hurricane thing, and the Norrington-losing-his-entire-crew-except-apparently-Groves thing.

"Vila's not _actually_ part of the crew, you know," Gudrun whispered fiercely to the Voice. "You can't have him lose her, too."

The Voice was silent, but somehow Gudrun got the feeling that it was insulted she would even accuse it of such a thing. Somewhat satisfied, she returned to her hiding place beneath the stairs.

--

Vila clung to Gillette's bunk as tightly as she could to avoid being tossed into the opposite wall. The ship had been rolling and careening uncontrollably, and she was beginning to feel distinctly ill. Above, there was shouting as men dashed to and fro. Judging by the sounds of rolling metal, a few cannons had broken free from their securements.

"We're gaining on her, boys!" someone bellowed.

"_We must stop!_" someone else bellowed back.

"WE CANNOT STOP UNTIL WE HAVE RESCUED MY LOOOOVE," Norrington roared, and Vila's nausea increased by about ten times.

There was a horrible grinding sound and Vila suddenly found herself hanging in the air as the ship turned almost all the way on its side. She screamed, not bothering to keep quiet as it seemed everyone else on the ship was screaming as well, and who was going to go investigate a possible stowaway at a time like this, anyway? The ship rolled again and Vila, who had lost her grip on Gillette's bunk, was flung to the floor. She groaned, dizziness enveloping her.

"_Prepare to board_!" a voice screamed, barely discernible above the sounds of the storm and the mens' terrified shouting. There was faint cannon fire, apparently from the _Pearl_, and suddenly the door burst open.

"Now, come now," Gillette gasped, grabbing Vila by the arms and hoisting her to her feet. He had lost his wig and his coat, and was completely drenched. "For God's sake, come quickly. He'll kill us all!"

Vila stumbled after the lieutenant, letting out a scream and grabbing him by the back of the shirt as the ship gave a mighty roll. Gillette found her hand with his and pulled her forward, his Naval experience allowing him to remain at least slightly more balanced. They reached the deck, which was covered in shattered wood and almost buried beneath the waves. Thunder was crashing furiously around them and lightning illuminated the scene only in flashes.

"They're boarding," Gillette shouted in her ear. "Grab one of those ropes—" he indicated wildly a bunch of ropes along the side that swung terrifyingly to and fro across the heaving black sea "—and you don't have to swing, the storm will carry you over to the _Pearl_!"

Vila, who had thought the battle was scary but now realized it had been a walk in the park compared to this, shook her head. A group of men took the ropes and swung wildly out over the sea towards the _Pearl_, which seemed to be having a much easier time of it. Vila watched in horror as most of the men were knocked off their ropes by the power of the storm and fell to their deaths in the churning water below. "I can't do it!" she screamed.

"You have to! You said you'd put it to rights!" Gillette bellowed back. A wave crashed over them and he grabbed her forearms to keep her upright beneath the force of it. "It's your job, isn't it?"

"I'm going to die!"

"We're all going to die!"

"That's not comforting!" Vila shrieked, trying to take a step back but finding no purchase on the slippery deck. Gillette might have rolled his eyes—in the storm she couldn't really read facial expressions—and suddenly she found his arm around her back, under her arms, and he was rushing them towards one of the ropes—"NO!" Vila hollered, but Gillette ignored her—his hand wrapped around the rope, and she, desperate and terrified, clung to him and screamed, probably in his ear but who cared, they were all going to die horribly, as he took a great leap and swung them out over the monstrous, seething sea.

--

The _Pearl_ was no longer directly in the eye of the storm, but was still above the full strength of it. Raeanne seemed to be alternately celebrating her escape from being Mrs. Commodore and focusing her energies on simultaneously seducing and rejecting Jack Sparrow. She had taken refuge from the storm in his cabin, afraid of damaging her extremely expensive gown and exquisitely styled hair. Meanwhile, the pirates were concentrating on battening down hatches and repelling the few boarders who had managed to make it over from the _Dauntless_.

"He's got to stop sometime!" Gibbs hollered to Will Turner, as the two of them worked to put down a tarpaulin. "He can't sail through the storm!"

But the Commodore seemed to be making a valiant effort. Gudrun, soaking wet and trying to hold on for dear life, saw the Commodore illuminated by lightning every so often and could even hear his shouts now and then. She had yet to catch sight of Vila, but assured herself her partner was fine, because what else would she be?

Another sailor from the _Dauntless_ hit the deck behind Gudrun, and she turned around, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. In all the confusion, she was the only one who had noticed the boarder, which was lucky, because it was apparently Vila.

"Vila!"

Gudrun dashed towards her partner and helped her to her feet as well as she could on the wet deck, trying to explain the situation to her at the same time. "I haven't Canonized her yet," she hollered above the wind, "because she hasn't totally messed things up yet! I wish she would, though, because this sucks, you know?!"

"I almost died!" Vila bawled at her.

Gudrun didn't really have a response to that. It was then that she noticed the dazed looking young man getting to his feet behind Vila, his eyes wide and horrified and on them both.

"Hide!" she shrieked, trying to pull Vila towards her hiding place under the stairs.

Vila shook her head as if to clear it, then realized what was happening. "Oh! No! It's all right! I mean it isn't, but—" the storm was eating her words, so she pulled her arm out of Gudrun's grasp and tried to indicate, with a wavering thumbs-up sign and lots of shrugging and head-shaking, that there was nothing to be done about Gillette. "Where's the Sue?" she screamed.

"Captain's cabin!" Gudrun screeched back, but as she spoke the doors of the cabin were flung open and Raeanne rushed out, hair and skirts streaming behind her.

"YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE, NORRINGTON!!" she howled into the wind, lightning illuminating her shapely figure. "YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIIIIIIIVE!!111 I WON'T GO BACK TO STUPID OGMAE AND I WON'T MARRY YOU!!"

The air was thickening with significance and both Mediums took this as a sign that they were about to get their chance. Sure enough, a crack of lightning showed Norrington, standing on the prow of his sinking ship, shaking a fist.

"YOU WILL BE MINE, PRINCESS RAEANNE VARALEE KABIRIA YANICHELLE OF OGMAE!!" he bellowed. "I SAILED THROUGH THIS HURRICANE TO GET YOU BACK, AND YOU WILL BE MIIIIIIINE!"

"That's it!" Gudrun shrieked, struggling forward.

"He didn't sail through the storm to get her, he sailed through the hurricane to get _Jack_!" Vila shouted, completely unnecessarily, as Gudrun already knew that. "Gudrun! Canonize her!"

Gudrun struggled with the cork of the Canon bottle as she threw herself headlong into the wind towards the Sue. As she opened it, the _Pearl_ leaned dangerously to one side and she was flung headfirst into Princess Raeanne Varalee Kabiria Yanichelle of Ogmae, Canon spilling all over the princess' tremendously expensive gown.

"WHAT THE HELL—" Raeanne howled, pushing Gudrun away from her, but it was too late. The storm was fading and they were being pulled back—

Vila turned suddenly and sprinted as well as she could across the creaking watery deck to Gillette, who was holding onto the rail and trying to pull out his sword, having lost his pistol and apparently having decided that while he was here, he might as well kill some pirates. "Hey!" she screamed at him. "Thank you!" She held out a hand.

"Vila!" Gudrun was hollering. "We have to go! We're going!"

Gillette hadn't shaken her hand but was instead looking at her with profound distrust. "I thought you said it was going to go back to the way it was!" he yelled.

"It is! It will!" Vila could feel herself vanishing and, in a last desperate move, grabbed Gillette's hand and shook it tightly. "Thank—"

--

"—you!" she finished, but it was quiet.

"Why are you yelling? We're not in the storm anymore, you know," said Gudrun, who was wringing water out of her hair.

Vila looked around and let out a gasp. There were four of them here,

in the tranquil headquarters-type-place: herself, Gudrun, a soaking wet Suethor with long hair and acne, and, oh no, Gillette, looking as if he was about to panic.

"Um," she started, feeling as if she was about to panic herself. "Um. Don't worry, you'll be sent back in a moment."

Gillette gave her a stare. "Sent back to certain death? Oh, no, I'm not at all worried."

"Sorry," Vila went on. "That was my fault. I forgot about the—the touching thing."

"Gudrun Quenby," Gudrun was saying pleasantly to the Sue. "And Vila Borcka. We're Happy Mediums. Who are you?"

"johnniizprincess12492," the Suethor said, looking confused. Her face brightened. "The last part of my screenname is my birthday!"

"Cool," Gudrun said, as the Suethor began to fade. She waved. "Happy writing!"

_I don't recall asking you to bring anyone back with you_, the Voice intoned suddenly.

"Yeah, sorry," Vila said hurriedly. "It was just—I forgot."

_Indeed._ The Voice didn't sound angry; if anything, it sounded amused. _You realize we cannot keep him here._

"What is that?" Gillette demanded, sitting upright. "Whose voice is that?"

"Um." Vila looked at Gillette, then tried to look back at the Voice but remembered it was just a Voice and there was nothing to look at, so she just looked up. "Well, um, sorry, but, why not?"

_I beg your pardon?_

"Miss Borcka! To whom are you speaking?" Gillette's voice had gone rather high, as though he were getting slightly hysterical.

"It's just," Vila began, "he was really—well, not _nice_ to me, but not not nice, you know? He was—helpful. Sort of. He saved my life, or actually he put my life in very real and scary jeopardy, but it was for a good cause and sort of heroic, in a way. And," she winced, knowing she really shouldn't say what she was about to say, "I mean, we've just gotten to the part where he gets killed off—"

"_What?!_" Gillette spluttered.

"—so it's not like canon is going to miss him," she finished hurriedly. "And I'd rather he not die," she added.

"Me, too," Gudrun chimed in, smiling. "He looks like a good sort of person, you know."

The Voice appeared to be flabbergasted. _This is most unusual_…

"I just, I don't like it when people who I don't want to die, die," Vila said sadly. "And we could use some help, right? Three's company, and everything."

_He is not trained_—

"Neither was I," Vila reasoned. "I was a last resort. And Gudrun was a mistake."

"A good mistake," Gudrun corrected her without malice.

"Yeah. I mean, you said it was unusual, but isn't everything about this job pretty unusual? And," she went on, gathering steam, "who's going to be better at fixing canon than a canon character, right? Even if he is pretty minor," she added. Gillette let out an indignant sound.

_Well,_ the Voice pondered. _Well. As we have reached the general period of Mr. Gillette's canonical death, and as we will be moving forward now, I suppose…well, I suppose there's no real harm…_

"Thank you," Vila breathed. "I mean—" She turned to Gillette. "You want to stay with us, don't you? You don't want—"

"I don't want to die," Gillette finished for her. "I…" He glanced from one Medium to the other, then around at the surrounding apartment. "I suppose I do rather want to see how the whole thing turns out." He gave them a rather weak grin. "Although I will require a bit of time to, ah, sort all of this out in my mind, and make certain I'm not mad."

"You're allowed to be mad," Gudrun said politely. "We don't mind."

"Well," Gillette said ponderously. "Then I suppose it is 'Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more', or something along those lines?"

_Precisely, Mr. Gillette_, the Voice said. _For, as you know, we now have __**sequels**__._

There was a simultaneous sinking of hearts.


End file.
